


Astrum

by riddlejr



Series: My Female Harry Potter Works [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BAMF Harry Potter, Black Hermione Granger, Canon Rewrite, Daphne Greengrass is a good friend, F/F, F/M, Female Harry Potter, Good Slytherins, Good Tom Riddle, Grey Harry Potter, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin Rivalry, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Morally Grey Harry Potter, Not Canon Compliant, Pansy Parkinson Swears a Lot, Parseltongue, Possessive Tom Riddle, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Pureblood Politics (Harry Potter), Slytherin Court, Slytherin Harry Potter, Slytherin Politics, Slytherins Being Slytherins, Smart Harry Potter, Tom Riddle is Not Voldemort, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:42:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 32,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24746257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riddlejr/pseuds/riddlejr
Summary: “Potter, Cassiopeia!”Cassy fiddled nervously with her fingers as her name was called. She distanced herself from the first years clumped at the entrance to the Great Hall and shuffled up to the sorting hat. It was an old raggedy thing, and she winced at she shoved down on top of her head."Hmm," a small voice spoke suddenly in her ear, "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, ah my goodness, yes. And a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting... So where shall I put you?"“Not Slytherin, please not Slytherin.”"Not Slytherin, eh? Ah, I see that Mr. Malfoy has made quite the impression on you. Well, I can’t have just one student ruining the whole house for you.” Cassy began another feeble protest, but the voice cut her off, “None of that, none of that. My decision is final.”Accompanying the sinking feeling in her gut, the hat opened the seam ripped into his brim and announced, “SLYTHERIN!”In which Cassiopeia fails at persuading the sorting hat, and things turn out very differently.
Relationships: Daphne Greengrass & Harry Potter, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter
Series: My Female Harry Potter Works [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1945387
Comments: 79
Kudos: 590





	1. Family I

“Potter, Cassiopeia!”

Cassy fiddled nervously with her fingers as she distanced herself from the first years clumped at the entrance to the Great Hall. Desperately ignoring the hundreds of eyes trained on her malnourished form, she shuffled up to the sorting hat, an old raggedy thing, and shoved down on top of her head.

Hmm," a small voice spoke suddenly in her ear, startling her quite effectively, "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, ah my goodness, yes. And a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting... So where shall I put you?"

Cassy gripped the edges of the stool and thought, “Not Slytherin, not Slytherin.”

"Not Slytherin, eh?" said the disembodied voice, “Ah, I see that Mr. Malfoy has made quite the impression on you. Well, I can’t have just one student ruining the whole house for you.” Cassy began another feeble protest, but the voice cut her off, “None of that, none of that. My decision is final.”

Accompanying the sinking feeling in her gut, the hat opened the seam ripped into his brim and announced, “SLYTHERIN!”

The hall, somehow, seemed even more quiet than it had before. Flushing a deep crimson, she hastily removed the hat, handed to a speechless Professor McGonagall, and scurried over to the silent Slytherin table. Draco Malfoy sneered at her and shifted away when she sat down, as if she might infect him with her muggle-ness. 

The rest of the sorting sped past in a blur, Cassy desperately trying to fight down tears of shame in response to the looks of disgust. Not even just from her housemates either - everyone in the school seemed personally offended by her sorting. Even Ron Weasley, her friend she had made on the train, had ignored the shaky smile she had sent him when he had been sorted into Gryffindor. 

Finally, Headmaster Dumbledore finished his odd speech and food magically appeared on the table. The joy of seeing magic again had lightened her mood for a moment, but it quickly darkened again after Cassy felt herself grow full after only a few bites of the rich food. She glanced enviously at a large girl who was shoving food into her mouth - Millacent Bulstrode, Cassy thought the girl’s name was. 

After another miserable hour where she only managed one more treacle tart, the Headmaster announced the end of the speech, along with a hallway that promised a horrible death, and a girl named Gemma Farley stood and introduced herself as the fifth year prefect who would direct them to the Slytherin common room. 

Cassy stood with the rest of the kids in her year, but was quickly pushed to the back of the group, Pansy Parkinson stomping harshly on her shoe as she passed her. 

As Cassy limped behind everyone else, she took the time to study her housemates. Draco Malfoy, the boy she had met in Madam Malkins, was leading the pack, with Pansy snuggled up next to him. The Dudley comparison was growing stronger with each passing moment. The two bulky boys were trailing behind the two. She vaguely recalled Malfoy introducing them, but she couldn't remember their names for the life of her. Bulstrode and a mousy haired girl were chatting quietly with one another and Daphne Greengrass and Blaise Zabini were walking alone, though it seemed more self-inflicted than Cassy’s isolation.

She couldn’t help but notice how few Slytherin students there were compared to the other houses. Hufflepuff had gotten eighteen new first years, but Slytherin had only received nine. Maybe that had something to do with the boos they received when they were seated. Cassy recalled her own sorting with a wince. Was horrified silence better than jeers? She wasn’t sure. 

Farley stopped abruptly in front of a bare stone wall, shocking Cassy out of her own self-pitying thoughts. She turned to face them, “This is the entrance to the Slytherin common room.” Cassy stared incredulously at the stone wall. Gemma rolled her eyes at the muttering of the first years, “It requires a password to open. The password right now is Boomslang. It changes every week, so check the update board every Sunday. No one’s gonna let you in if you forget it.”

As she spoke the word, the bricks in the wall began to separate in a way that reminded Cassy distinctly of Diagon Alley. She wondered how the Slytherins felt about having a common room entrance that resembled the one to the Muggle world. She smiled at the thought. They were probably disgusted by it. 

Gemma continued as they walked through the barrier, “This is the Slytherin common room, where students spend their time when they are not studying. Professor Snape, the potions master here at Hogwarts, is our head of house. He expects the very best of all of us and, I promise you, you do _not_ want to see what it looks like when he is disappointed. Seriously. Word of advice, he has a tendency to quiz students about the text book on the first day of class, so make sure you’re prepared.”

Once they were all inside, the fifth year student turned around to face them, her dark skin illuminated by the greenish light that filtered from the lake, through the glass, “Boys dormitories are to the left, girls to the right. Each of you have your own rooms,” her eyes glinted at them, “A perk of living in the dungeons. Breakfast begins at seven in the morning tomorrow and ends at nine. Professor Snape will be handing out your class schedules then.

Her face softened as she smiled at them and for the first time, Cassy realized that she was actually quite pretty, “Welcome to Slytherin, kids. _Good luck.”_

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · 

Cassy awoke the next morning with the realization that, _No, this wasn’t a dream. She was actually at Hogwarts._ The giddiness in her chest quickly received when she remembered what house she had been sorted into. There wasn’t a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin, or so Hagrid had said. Did that mean she was set to become the next Dark wizard? She felt tears of shame burn behind her eyes at the thought. What would her parents think of her if they saw her now?

With a groan, she pushed herself to her elbows and looked around for a clock to tell her the time. Except there wasn’t any. How did wizards tell time? There was probably a spell for that. 

Still, Cassy assumed that she was up in time for breakfast. Even without Aunt Petunia banging on her cupboard door, her body was accustomed to waking up early. Seven in the morning was no problem for her.

She swung her feet across the too-soft bed sheets until they were hanging a foot above the ground. Mentally cursing her shortness, she stumbled out from under her covers, scrambling blindly to find her glasses, and to the shower that she shared with Greengrass. The girl didn’t seem to be awake yet, which Cassy was grateful for. She didn’t think she could bare seeing one of her housemates yet. Especially not before the shower had thoroughly woken by the shower. 

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · 

Cassy stumbled dejectedly into the Great Hall, once again ignoring the way each student quieted when they spotted her. She sat alone at the end of her table, far away from the few Slytherin students who were already awake.

One by one, kids ventured up from the dungeon until seemingly everyone was there. Slowly, the black clad teacher (Professor Snape, her head of house, her mind supplied) rose from his seat at the head table and began to hand out what Cassy assumed were the class schedules. 

Finally, he got to her and, scowling, forcefully shoved a piece of parchment in her direction. She took it with a quiet, “Thank you, sir,” she began to read it. 

Her first class on Monday morning was History of Magic, then Charms and Herbology with the Ravenclaws. Tuesday was Transfiguration and Defense with the Gryffindors. Cassy ignored the rest of her schedule. She’d memorize it later. 

Gemma Farley stood again like she did the night before and directed them to their History of Magic class which, according to her, was taught by the ghost of Professor Binns. 

“But don’t get your hopes up, kiddies. Being taught by a ghost might be the actual most boring thing you can imagine. Professor Binns has a habit of completely forgetting that he has actual students. All he does is lecture every class. Even so, Slytherin holds all of its members responsible for themselves, so I don’t want to hear that any of you are slacking off. There hasn’t been a single History of Magic NEWT graduate in over two decades,” Farley took a deep breath, “Though I’m pretty sure that whole issue could be fixed if the Headmaster just took a few moments out of his day to hire a new professor. Alright, here it is firsties! History of Magic, Room twelve, floor three. Remember that, because I’m not leading you here again. Or to any of your classes, for that matter. From now on, you’ll need to ask either professors or older students for directions. See you all around!” She vanished around one of the many turns in Hogwarts’ hallways before any of her housemates could protest. 

It was going to be a _very_ long week. 

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · 

Their first Charms class ended with Professor Flitwick (the old man? Goblin? had squeaked and fallen off of the stack of books he’s been standing on when he’s read her name) assigning a foot long essay on the properties of the _Incendio_ charm and then Cassy was off to Herbology. 

The class was taught by a short, plump woman by the name of Professor Sprout, who somehow reminded Cassy of her Grandma, despite having never met the woman. The first half of her lecture focused solely on the proper safety precautions when dealing with magical plants. The second half consisted of Cassy peeling a pulling apart something called a Shrivelfig, which produced an odd, purple goo. She had never been more grateful for her dragonhide gloves. 

Thankfully, the woman let them go without any extra work. Between her two feet for History and one foot for Charms, Cassy already had more than she knew what to do with. Especially since she wanted to actually do well, unlike how she had performed in every class she shared with Dudley. 

With a sigh, Cassy flopped face first on top of her bed, content to ignore her problems for just a little while later. 

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · 

Transfiguration was fun. It was the one subject she truly excelled in, finishing second in the entire class, right behind Hermione Granger. Professor McGonagall had congratulated her with a smile, even rewarding her ten points to Slytherin for her achievement! Of course, the only thanks she got from her housemates were spitting curses or impassive stares. They truly were a joy to be around.

Cassy sat in the back of the DADA classroom, desperately trying to stop her eyes from watering because of the strong stench of garlic. The smell was so strong, Cassy could barely hear Professor Quirell over the pounding in her head. Not that it mattered all that much, he wasn’t saying anything important. _God, there is something seriously wrong with some of the professors at this school._

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · 

Cassy’s previous statement had only been reaffirmed by her first potions class with Professor Snape. Per Gemma Farley’s recommendation, Cassy had thoroughly read through her entire potions textbook, unwilling to embarrass herself in front of her own head of house. 

It was a good thing she did, too, because the scowling dungeon bat had quizzed her relentlessly during the first few minutes of class, scowling even _more_ when she answered his questions correctly. Weren’t teachers supposed to be _happy_ when students got their questions right? Maybe he was just upset that he wouldn’t be able to teach her.

Except that definitely wasn’t it either. 

The man had viciously attacked poor Neville Longbottom when the boy had made a mistake in his brewing, then taking points from the two Gryffindors sitting beside him for not paying attention.

 _Isn’t it_ your _job as the teacher to pay attention to your students?_ Cassy thought, though she wasn’t quite stupid enough to say it out loud. 

_Seriously,_ what was _wrong_ with these people? Even so, Cassy never once missed the mundane of number four, Privet Drive.

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · 

Flying class had been eventful. Draco Malfoy, in typical Draco Malfoy fashion, had stolen Neville Longbottom’s (again, poor Neville Longbottom) Remeberball after the boy had fallen off of his broom and broken his wrist. 

The blonde ferret had flown so high up in the air and dropped it that Cassy was almost _sure_ the object had shattered upon hitting the surface of the lake. 

Seriously, what ancient god had Longbottom offended by being born?

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · 

_Partners._ Professor Flitwick’s words swirled miserably around in her head as she looked over at the other Slytherins in her class, foolishly hopeful that at least one of them would be willing to group up with her. Alas, they all seemed to have found someone. Even Zabini and Greengrass already had partners.

“Are you going to be my partner?” a voice from beside her startled her out of her self-pitying thoughts, “It seems as though we’re the only ones left. So…?” Hermione Granger, of all people, said, unknowingly adding to Cassy’s depression. Not that she had anything against Granger, it was just… Cassy didn’t think that an assignment about unconventional ways to use any of the charms in _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1,_ wasn’t exactly up the girl’s alley.

She was too… rule-following. Definitely more Ravenclaw than Gryffindor. Though Cassy wasn’t exactly one to talk about not fitting into your house.

With a smile that she was pretty sure looked more like a grimace, she stuck her hand out with the most confidence she could muster, “Sure.”

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · 

The pair met in the library the day after. Granger, being Granger, had spent all of the day before picking out books that would help them with their product which was a bit stupid, since the whole point of the assignment was that students thought up unique and unconventional ideas for spell usage, but it was no use telling the dark skinned girl that.

“Alright,” Granger began primly, opening to a marked page in one of her books, “I’ve already written down all of the spell usages that are considered _conventional._ That way, we won’t mess up and accidentally use one of those. Read this over,” she shoved a piece of parchment into Cassy’s empty hands and busied herself with her own list, “Do you have any ideas? I’ve really no idea why this is a partner activity, it seems much more sensible to let us do it on our own. No offense of course.”

“Um, none taken,” Cassy finally managed to get a word out, “Granger, why don’t we just-” she stopped when she noticed the other girl staring at her strangely, “What?” she winced, that was rude, “I mean, is something wrong?”

“No. Well, why’d you call me Granger? My first name is Hermione.”

“Oh, I guess it's just ‘cause-” she faltered. Had she really gotten so used to calling people by their last names in Slytherin that she just… did it with everyone now? “I’ll call you Hermione. If you want, I mean.”

Granger, _Hermione,_ nodded, satisfied, “Okay then. You didn’t answer my first question, by the way, I asked whether or not you had any ideas. Do you?”

  * · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·



Weeks later, when Professor Flitwick once again called for partners, Cassy found her eyes drifting towards Hermione. The two girls smiled at each other. 

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · 

  
  


Cassy had never missed the mundane of Privet Drive... until Halloween came along.

Cassy had never known the date of her parents' deaths, not until Hagrid had told her just a few months ago. She’d even foolishly believed that they had died in a car accident. 

But now that she did know… it didn’t seem right to sit out in the Great Hall with everyone else, celebrating Halloween.

Instead, Cassy was intent to lie all alone in the Slytherin Common Room, face first in her pillow, bracing for tears of sadness that would not come.

At least, she _was_ all alone, until she heard the tell tale slide of stone against stone and the Common Room filling with students hours before the feast was set to end. What was going on?

She scurried out of her dorm room and down the hall. She had been right. It looked as though every single Slytherin student was back in the dungeons. She needed to know what had happened.

Slowly weaving her petite body through the crowd, Cassy made her way over to Gemma Farley. Talking to her seemed much safer than asking any of the other students, even her own year mates, “Could you - uh - please explain what’s happening? Did something bad happen at the feast? I wasn’t there, I was in my room because, uh…” she trailed off. She was pretty sure everyone at Hogwarts could easily deduce why she had been in her room.

Farley’s expression twisted as she stared down at her, but she granted Cassy an answer with a sigh, “There was a Troll down here in the dungeons. Dumbledore, the old prat, ordered us to be sent back down there, but, thankfully, Professor Snape intervene and had us stay in the Great Hall,” Gemma paused, considering saying something else, “Apparently, Ron Weasley and Finnegan rushed to the girls' bathroom to warn some girl who was down there about the Troll and ended up defeating the damn thing in the process. Don’t ask me how, I have no idea. Bloody Gryffindors. And Bloody Dumbledore, sending us off into the dungeons. What is wrong with this damn school?”

Cassy couldn’t agree with the sentiment more. 

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · 

Cassy had her first civil conversation with one of her housemates two weeks after the events of Halloween.

It was well into the night (though Cassy had no idea about the specifics, she still hadn’t figured out the damn spell to tell time) when Daphne Greengrass poked her head into her room, using the small hallway that connected their rooms with a shower. 

_“Pss,_ Potter?” she hissed, startling Cassy, who was up reading about the properties of the Devil’s Snare, “Are you still awake?”

“Hm? Uh, yeah,” she whispered back, her voice gruff with sleep.

“Have you finished your essay on Gradevitch the Grand? For History of Magic?”

“Um, yeah. Why, do you need to copy it?”

“Copy?” In the flickering candlelight, Greengrass’s face looked ghoulish, “Of course not. I _was_ wondering if you could help me with it. Just the last paragraph. I wouldn’t normally ask _you,”_ she seemed to think better of her sneering tone, “but, um, the doors are locked from the outside once curfew starts and it's due tomorrow so…” she trailed off hopefully.

“Sure, Greengrass, I’ll help you. Just- gimme a second.” Cassy rifled through the papers on her desk until she found the one on Gradevitch the Grand she had finished two days ago.

Greengrass sat beside her on her too-large bed, waving one of her perfectly manicured hands in dismissal, “Call me Daphne. You’re doing me a favor.”

“Er, okay. Daphne then. I guess, if I’m gonna call you Daphne, you should call me Cassy.”

Daphne’s nose wrinkled in distaste, _“Cassy?_ Your name is _not_ Cassy _._ I will call you _Cassiopeia_. _”_

“What's the big deal? It’s not like it really matters. It’s just a nickname.”

“Not like it really matters? Your name signifies your claim to the Black line! Tons of witches and wizards would _kill_ to have the name Cassiopeia.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Cassy was too tired to deal with this kind of stuff.

Daphne rolled her eyes at her, “Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. Every respectable wizard knows that in Wizarding Britain, only people with Black heritage are named after stars.”

“Yeah well, hate to break it to you, but I’m white. And, obviously, not a very respectable wizard.”

Daphne’s frown deepened, “I don’t mean race- Wait. Do you seriously not know what I’m talking about right now?” Cassy shook her head, “Alright, the essay can wait. You’re telling me that your guardians didn’t take you to any Pureblood Etiquette lessons?”

Cassy was feeling stupider and stupider by the second, “I’m a halfblood, not a pureblood.” Cassy had definitely had that drilled into her head by the rest of Slytherin house, “And my guardians were Muggles.”

Daphne gaped at her, _“Muggles?_ You were raised by _Muggles?”_ Again, Cassy nodded. How had they gotten from talking about her name to _here_ in just a few minutes, _“Why?”_

Cassy shrugged, “They were my last living relatives. I didn’t really have much of a choice.”

“That is so not true!” Daphne’s voice was climbing in volume, “The Malfoys could’ve taken you in. Hell, at least half of Slytherin house has _some_ claim to your bloodline! And Dumbledore left you with _Muggles?”_

“How did you know it was Dumbledore who left me there?” Cassy shot back angrily, “Hagrid said he was the one who left me with…” she abruptly stopped talking when she realized how stupid she sounded.

“Alright. Okay,” Daphne took a deep, calming breath, essay on Gradevitch the Grand completely forgotten, “Let me explain this in simple terms. Your name, Cassiopeia, is the name of a star. In Wizarding Britain, almost all people with star names are members of an Ancient and Noble House,” she paused at Cassy’s confused look, “A _family_ called the Blacks. Therefore, by calling yourself _Cassy,_ you are disregarding your connection to a very powerful family that many wizards would die to be a part of. Do you understand?” She said the last part very slowly, as if she was talking to a child.

Cassy huffed, “Yes, I understand. If it bothers you so much, I’ll start introducing myself as Cassiopeia. There, problem solved.”

“ _No,_ no. That is _not_ problem solved. We still have to deal with the fact that you were raised by _Muggles_ and not one of the many wizarding families that are connected to you through the Blacks.”

Cassy - Cassiopeia - frowned in confusion, “I thought you just said that there _weren’t_ a lot of Blacks.”

“Well, there aren’t many people left with strong connections to the family. In fact, I don’t think there’s anyone left with the last name Black who isn’t in Azkaban. Wizarding prison. There’s only a few left who have a strong claim to the family. Draco does, notice how he has a star name, because his mother was, _is,_ a Black. I’m not sure if Nymphadora Tonks counts because her mother, Andromeda, was disowned by the family. But even if we discounted them, there are still a lot of families with Blacks as _really_ distant relatives who could’ve taken you in. I’m sure anyone of them would’ve taken you in if they had the chance.”

Cassiopeia knitted her eyes together, “But they all hate me. No one in Slytherin ever talks to me.”

Daphne waved her hand again, “That's only because Draco hates you and, as a Malfoy, he has the most power in the house. The Malfoys are a member of the Sacred Twenty Eight, which is like a collection of the super old and noble pureblood houses, and holds the second most seats in the Wizengamot, right behind House Black.”

Cassiopeia had no idea what the Wizengamot was, and said as much. Daphne sighed, rubbing her nose bridge like a wizened old lady, “Okay, we’ll talk about this sometime later, I’ll even help you find books about it, but right now I _really_ need to finish my History of Magic essay. Please?”

“Yes, yes. That’s fine.” For the first time, Cassy (Cassiopeia, she reminded herself) actually smiled at one of her house mates, “Thank you, Daphne.”

For the first time, one of her housemates smiled back, “The feeling is mutual, dear.”

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · 

The months of November and December flew by until, suddenly, it was Christmas break and Hermione, Daphne and almost all of the other Slytherins were leaving for home. Daphne had mentioned something about celebrating Yule, but Cassiopeia wasn’t anywhere near learning about stuff like that. 

The two girls weren’t exactly friends, but they definitely weren’t enemies. Daphne seemed to have made it her personal mission to educate Cassy on everything she had missed while growing up in the Muggle world (which was, unsurprisingly, a lot) and Cassiopeia certainly wasn’t complaining. Well, she did complain a little bit, but that was to be expected.

Allies. That’s how she would explain their relationship. She was using the word how Daphne used it when explaining partnerships in the Wizengamot. The way the Potters and Longbottoms always partnered and backed each other up when they supported bills. 

Daphne always stood by Cassiopeia when she was being attacked by others (both in Slytherin and out of Slytherin) and Cassy did the same for her. Though Daphne, admittedly, needed protection a lot less than Cassy did. The girl had once stood up to another Gryffindor for making fun of Hermione, just because she was Cassy’s friend! Cassy had never appreciated her more than she had at that moment.

Another big thing that she helped with was upping Cassiopeia’s confidence levels. Hermione… wasn’t the best at that. The frizzy haired girl wasn’t exactly the best emotional companion and was often too wrapped up in one project or another to ever realize something was wrong, but Cassy still cared for her. Daphne, on the other hand, was able to pick out even the slightest changes in Cassiopeia’s mood, and regularly asked what was wrong.

Cassy suspected that that might be because she suspected someone had been mean to her and she wanted to curse them out. Not that Daphne had ever done something as unladylike as cursing someone out. Well, not with her mouth at least. While she was no prodigy, the blonde girl _did_ know how to fire some nasty hexes. 

Regardless, now almost everyone at Hogwarts was gone and Cassiopeia was without her ally and friend. 

She was very bored. 

She didn’t know anyone at the school and she kind of reverted back to how she was at the beginning of the year, seated at the very end of the table, as far away from the few remaining upper year Slytherins who could genuinely care less about her.

The only people she _did_ know were Ronald Weasley, the boy she’d spent only half a day with on the train, and the Weasley twins, she'd had one conversation with. There was also the other Weasley, Percy, but the only remarkable thing about him was that he was the second most Ravenclaw-y Gryffindor ever, right behind Hermione. 

The twins, at least, were fun. She’s had a snowball fight with them that quickly disbanded after they charmed snowballs to hit the back of Professor Quirrel’s turban. Even just looking at the stuttering teacher brought back the garlic smell in full strength and with it, the pounding headache. 

Finally, Christmas day arrived. When she saw the present at the end of her bed labeled _From Heiress Daphne Greengrass,_ she mentally thanked every god she knew of that she had had the foresight to send the girl a gift from owl order. 

She frowned in confusion, however, when she saw that there was more than one present. She wasn’t surprised to see the single 50 pence piece from the Dursleys, they were bastards like that, but she was surprised to see the poorly wrapped present with an obscure note and no name. What on earth could that be? Setting it aside, she resolved to take it to an older student or Professor Snape (probably not Professor Snape) to check for curses. 

Hermione had sent her a gift too, of course, which was wrapped neatly in muggle wrapping paper. She half heartedly wondered how Daphne would react to that. Pulling apart the snowflake-print paper, she revealed a nice set of fountain pens (probably because Csasy had been complaining to both Daphne and Hermione about writing with quills) and a box of Chocolate Frogs that Cassy recognized from her train ride. 

The gift from Daphne was a lovely pair of emerald and black dress robes that matched her eyes that would grow with her. She folded the fancy clothing delicately and placed it on top of her trunk, careful not to wrinkle. It was probably the nicest thing she owned.

Once that was done, she cautiously picked up the present from the unknown sender and brought it out to the Common Room. Hesitantly, she approached the two seventh years who were sitting by the fire drinking what looked to be some type of alcohol. 

“Um, excuse me,” she began, wincing at how uncertain her voice sounded. Daphne insisted that confidence was everything in Slytherin. Cassiopeia thought back to her conversation with Gemma Farley, “Would either of you be willing to check this gift for curses. I don’t know who sent it and I don't just want to open it.”

The two girls sent each other calculating looks before one of them, Abigail Sewlyn, Cassy thought she recognized, reached out, and took the package, sneering slightly at the poor wrapping job. Nevertheless, she drew her wand from her holster and started mumbling a series of spells that Cassiopeia knew nothing about. She handed it back over with a sigh, “I’m almost positive there isn’t anything on it. If there was, it probably would’ve been caught by the Hogwarts wards. Still, it was smart to ask.” 

That sounded suspiciously like a compliment, “Thank you, Miss Sewlyn,” dipping her head in a grateful nod, Cassy retreated back to her dorm room and away from prying eyes. 

Once safely inside, Cassiopeia carefully pulled apart what appeared to be Muggle wrapping paper, at least compared to the gleaming black box Daphne had sent her gift in. Once all of the paper had been removed, Cassy was left staring at what appeared to be a ratty old cloak. She had no trouble at all believing it had belonged to her father, like the note claimed. Or even her father’s father. 

Except, no, that wasn’t quite right. Because as she touched it, the texture was nothing like the raggedy feeling she was expecting. Instead, the fabric flowed through her fingers like liquid and she absentmindedly glanced at the tips of her fingers to see if there was any residue on them. There was none.

She unraveled the cloak from where it was folded neatly, a stark contrast to how the packaging had been folded. Just who was this mysterious sender?

She pulled the cloak over her shoulder and moved to her mirror to admire how she looked in the thing.

Except she wasn’t there. She wasn’t in the mirror. The only visible part of her reflection was her head from the chin up. 

She was invisible! she thought giddily. She was immensely grateful she hadn’t gone to Professor Snape, she was sure he would’ve taken it from her, especially since he seemed to dislike her so much. Bastard. 

There was no way she was telling Hermione about the cloak either. Daphne probably wouldn’t, but Cassy had no doubt that the Gryffindor would turn it over to a professor the moment she got her hands on it.

She spun around in the mirror, spotting little glimpses of her socks as the cloak lifted up from the ground. She pulled it over her head, curious to see if she’d be able to see through the material.

She could, but it was distorted, as if she was peering through a piece of warped glass. Still, she could easily navigate under this thing. She quietly thanked both her father and her mysterious sender for her gift and promised herself that she would go exploring once night fell.

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · 

The dungeons were, unsurprisingly, very gloomy. Cassy hadn’t wandered the halls of Hogwarts much, so she was careful to stay close to areas she was familiar with. 

Soon enough, her curiosity brought her to the third floor, though she was definitely avoiding the Corridor of Death, and she found herself face to face with a door to a presumably empty classroom. But… it didn’t feel empty. Cassy almost felt like whatever was in there was calling to her. Cursing her own curiosity, Cassiopeia opened the door and stepped in.

After not immediately being struck dead, she took another hesitant step forward. Immediately, her gaze fell on the silver mirror and the engraving that circled its frame, _‘Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi’_ whatever the hell that meant. 

She stepped in front of the glass, curious to see if something would happen to her reflection. Nothing did.

Wait. No, that wasn’t right. Just like the cloak, something was off about mirror-Cassy.

Her face was a little rounder, her legs a little sturdier, her cheeks a little pinker. But that wasn’t it. There was one difference between herself and her reflection. Mirror-Cassiopeia was happy. She could just tell. There was just the right amount of shine in her emerald eyes, the wrinkles around them crinkled just the right amount, her grin just big enough to light up her entire face.

This Cassiopeia had never had to spend the night huddled in a cramped cupboard. She’d never felt the hot metal of a frying pan to the back of her head, or the terror of hearing Dudley’s fat feet chasing after her, wondering will I make it? Will I be safe?

Happy.

The word was foreign to the real Cassiopeia. Cassy had felt joy in her life. Short bursts of elation that filled her whole chest, but they always faded. Cassy was always stuck in that never ending pool of numbness.

The girl in the mirror had never felt numb in her life.

Cassiopeia ducked her head in shame, tears of envy pricking at her eyes. Almost forgetting to pull the invisibility cloak over her head, Cassy practically ran from the room, vowing to never return.

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · 

Daphne and the other students returned to Hogwarts a week and a half after the mirror incident and Cassiopeia was grateful for the distraction. Anything to take her mind off that happy girl in the mirror. The girl Cassy herself could’ve been if Voldemort (The Dark Lord, she tried to remind herself. Cassy had said his name out loud once when talking to Daphne and the girl had almost had a heart attack) wasn’t such a bloody prat.

Cassy couldn’t bring herself to tell the blonde girl about the mirror, but she did show her the cloak from the mysterious sender.

“Oh,” she gasped, delighted as she ran her fingers through the silk-like texture, “It's lovely. Well, it feels lovely. I’m not so sure about the actual look though.”

Cassiopeia rolled her eyes, “It’s not like it really matters what it looks like. No one will see it once I put it on.”

“Have you gone exploring with it yet?”

“Not really,” Cassy lied, “I’m planning to though.”

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · 

Slowly but surely, classes went back to full swing. Though it took a little digging, Cassiopeia was able to uncover that the mirror from the abandoned classroom was called the Mirror of Erised, which, per the inscription, ‘I show not your face, but your heart's true desire.’

Her greatest desire was to be happy? Wow, real creative.

Sometime during mid-spring, Hagrid, the giant man who had taken her shopping at Diagon Alley, burned his house down. No one really knew why, but there were whispers that he had been raising a dragon. Cassy thought that was bs. No one, even that sweet giant, would be stupid enough to raise a dragon in a wooden hut. 

Defense classes soon became even more erratic. Instead of simply stuttering, Professor Quirrell often just stopped dead in the middle of sentences, or he went off on rambling tangents in the middle of class. The garlic smell became more and more severe until it was almost unbearable to be in the same room as him and Cassiopeia swore that she had seen his eyes flash red more than once.

But whenever she mentioned her concerns for Quirrell to Daphne, the blonde would tut at her, disappointed.

“What have I told you about butting your head into places you aren’t needed, Cassiopeia? You are a first year student, not a Mediwitch. It isn’t your job to look after rogue professors. Besides, there isn’t really anything to worry about. He’ll be gone by next year. Everyone knows Defense professors only last a single year.”

“That’s what I’m worried about. What if he like… dies or something. And it’s my fault ‘cause I didn’t help him.”

Daphne raised a sculpted eyebrow at her, “That’s a weak argument and you know it. Please try to be a Slytherin, just this once. You get absolutely nothing out of figuring him out, so don’t.”

Hermione had had… a different reaction. Cassy had mentioned it to her casually _once_ and she spent the entire day in the library trying to look up magical illnesses that caused red eyes and/or a horrible garlic smell. 

Cassy actually had to discourage her from researching the Quirrell mystery, that might not even be _real,_ because she was concerned for her health.

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · 

Cassiopeia severely regretted her promise to Daphne when, less than four months later, the entire second and third floor shook in what was seemingly a fit of rage. Anyone with half a brain would be able to connect the catastrophic event on the third floor to the Death Corridor ALSO on the third floor and Cassy, who’d been on that floor already, taking her History of Magic final, was one of the first on the scene. But her safe position as _not_ a piece of rubble was quickly sacrificed when she heard a pained cry coming from somewhere within the rubble.

Without a second thought for her own safety (or stupidity) Cassy launched herself into the fray. 

Almost the entire floor of the corridor had caved in, as well as some of the walls. Which left Cassy staring directly at a giant, slobbering three headed dog who was looking very hostile. The cry of pain was quickly forgotten in the face of this monster. An older girl, wearing blue Ravenclaw robes and a prefect badge quickly grabbed her shoulder and yanked her behind one of the half toppled columns, out of the dog's sight. 

_Holy shit_ , Cassiopeia thought in awe and terror, _What the bloody hell is wrong with this school?_

Why had she rushed towards the danger again? She should really start listening to Daphne and stop acting like a stupid Gryffindor all the time. No offense Hermione.

Cassy turned her attention to a Hufflepuff boy who was hiding behind the same column as she and the Ravenclaw prefect. He was ruffling furiously through his book bag in an attempt to find something.

Did he have an item that could help them? Cassy was pretty sure there wasn’t a spell to take down a giant, three headed dog and there was almost no hope of escape on their own now

She let out a strangled, pained laugh as the Hufflepuff retrieved a tiny violin from within his bag. What the hell was he going to do with that thing, lull it to sleep?

...which was exactly what he did. One simple song and that monster was fast asleep. The tension in her chest eased as Cassiopeia finally allowed herself to take a deep breath. Danger successfully avoided, everything was fi-

Cassy stumbled as the floor once more began to quake with rage. Someone, somewhere in this vicinity, was very mad.

The floor beneath her feet gave and she tumbled into the darkness.

Only to land on something distinctly plant-like. She opened her eyes from where she had braced herself for her fall and squinted to try and see better.

Beside her, the Ravenclaw prefect was struggling wildly. Cassy grabbed her shoulder and shook hard to get her attention.

“Devil’s Snare!” she gasped out. Belatedly, Cassy realized that one of the vines from the plant was wrapped tightly around her throat, “You’ve got to-” her speech was abruptly cut off as the plant tightened its grip.

_This day could literally not get any worse._

Through the haze of adrenaline coursing through her body, Cassiopeia’s mind sharpened and she saw exactly what she had to do. Fire. That’s what killed Devil’s Snares. Pointing her wand away from the two bodies beside her - the Hufflepuff boy had gone completely still and hadn’t said a word. His violin was laying in a mangled heap beside him - she shut her eyes tight and, with all of the conviction she could muster, shouted, “INCIENDIO!”

A bright wall of flame burst from her wand. Cassy felt the vines around her legs and torso loosen as the Snare writhed in an attempt to get away from the heat. It dropped the Ravenclaw onto the cold stone below and Cassy managed to yank herself and the frozen Hufflepuff out as well.

She threw herself down next to the Ravenclaw who had sat herself up, rubbing at her bruised neck, “What- What is your name?” 

The girl looked at her wearily, “Penelope. Penelope Clearwater. And that’s Jamie Dogooder.”

Cassy nodded, “Cassiopeia… Potter.”

“I know.”

Above them, the dog growled, sounding more like a roar. Well, someone was awake. She and Penelope glanced at the broken violin and then to each other. Unless one of them had a magical singing voice (which Cassy very much did _not)_ they had no way to put that awful dog to sleep. 

“We aren’t going to be able to get back up there by ourselves,” Penelope said, voicing Cassy’s thoughts, “So we can either stay here and wait to be rescued, and possibly be crushed under falling rubble in the process… Or we can try to get out through there.” She pointed to a large door on the other side of the room that Cassiopeia hadn’t noticed.

The green eyed girl glanced up at the gaping hole and the ceiling and the broken stones that scattered the floor around her. 

She’d take her chances with the mysterious doorway, thank you very much. 

“I’m going that way,” Cassy told Penelope, “You coming?”

“Yeah. Jamie’s coming too. He just needs to calm down.” The prefect grabbed the Hufflepuff, now that Cassy was really looking at him, she saw that he really couldn’t be more than a third year, and hoisted him to his feet. She dragged him as they stumbled to the door, pushed it open, and entered a room filled with flying… keys? What?

Cassiopeia examined the fluttering objects again just to confirm and… yep. Those were flying keys. The door slammed closed behind them. Cassy winced, there went their chances of retreat.

“I’m assuming…” Cassy began tiredly, “that one of those fits into the lock of that door.” She jerked her head in the direction of the large golden door opposite her. 

Penelope nodded in agreement, “I think so too. Can you fly?”

“I’m pretty okay, but I've only flown three or four times. I’m not sure if I’d be able to catch one of those things. Can Huff- er, can Jamie fly? Jamie,” she waved her hand in front of the boy's face to get his attention, “Can you fly? On a broom?”

“Broom? What?” He seemed to snap out of his state of shock, “Yes. Yeah, I can fly. I’m a chaser on the quidditch team.”

Penelope hummed in consideration, “We can work with that. Do you think you’ll be able to catch one of those flying keys?” 

Jamies nodded.

“Wait a minute. We don’t even know what key fits,” Cassy pointed out, “Are we supposed to catch all of them?”

“I doubt it,” Penelope bent down and picked up one of the brooms that were scattered near the entrance. They’d probably been knocked over by the harsh shaking of the castle, “See, look there,” she pointed into the mass of flying objects, “That big, silver key. Its wings have been bent, like it’s been caught before. Someone must’ve come through here before us.”

“Probably the same person who’s about to collapse this damn castle on top of us,” Cassiopeia grumbled angrily, “Did you hear that Jamie? Get the big, gaudy key with the bent, blue wings. The silver one.”

“Yeah, got it. I’ll try.” The third year seemed much more focused now that he had an actual task to complete and Cassy was glad he wasn’t a sniveling mess anymore. They couldn’t risk having such weak links if they wanted to get out of this mess alive. Cassiopeia had never regretted running straight into a situation more. 

Five minutes of trying to snatch a bloody key out of the air later, the trio entered a large, stone room filled with a life sized chess set. Cassy felt her heart sink in her chess.

She was _not_ good at chess.

She knew all the rules, Daphne had insisted she learn so they could play together, but she was thoroughly trounced by the girl whenever they played.

“Can either of you play?” Cassiopeia asked hopefully.

“I can. I’m the best in my year,” Penelope said confidently.

She felt the tension drain from her chest. Okay, they could do this. They could actually get out of here.

Cassy just hoped there weren't very many rooms left. 

Penelope was muttering to herself, seemingly laying out her plan of attack, “Rook,” she addressed the castle-like piece sitting at the edge of the board, “How do I direct you? Do we all have to play?” The rook piece nodded, “As chess pieces?” Another nod, “Alright. Got it. Potter, you come and take this rook,” Cassy scrambled to follow her directions, “Jamie, that bishop. I’ll be the Queen.”

Abruptly, the chess pieces she had listed off slid off the board to make room for them. Cassy winced at the sound of stone grating on stone.

Without waiting for any sort of starting signal, “Pawn 4C, move forward one.”

Time passed slowly, with Cassy only moving when Penelope told her to. The castle had shook again while they were playing and a stone from the ceiling had caught Jamie in the leg. The boy could barely stand, but he refused to be taken out of the game. It was a stark contrast to how he had acted just forty minutes before. It was truly a testament to how loyal and hard working Hufflepuffs were.

Finally, it came down to what Cassy recognized as the last two moves. She was experienced enough at chess to see where Penelope was going. She was going to sacrifice the Queen, herself, in order to let Jamie and Cassiopeia to safety.

“Clearwater…” Cassy started, but Penelope cut her off.

“Quiet, Potter. If I don’t do this, none of us are going to be able to get out of here. Once you’re free, I want you to go and find help. Got it? It's either that, or we all die in here. Jamie’s already almost lost a limb. I don’t have time for whatever you’re about to say.” Before Cassiopeia could say anything, she spoke again, “One I’m down for the count, you order the knight on B7 to attack. That’ll be check.”

“I-” Cassy swallowed, “Okay. We’ll come back for you. I’m sure the professors have some way to get through the doors if the next one locks behind us too.

“I know you will. You’re one of the least-Slytherin Slytherins I’ve ever met. Running straight towards a Cerberus like a bloody Gryffindor.” Penelope took a deep breath and grit her teeth. Her jaw was so tightly clenched Cassy could hear the bones in it creak from all the way across the chessboard, “Rook D2 to D6,” she commanded, leaving herself wide open. 

Jamies, who’d been too delirious to follow the conversation up to that point, finally seemed to realize what was happening, “Wait-” he started, but it was too late. The bishop from the opposing team sped forward, striking Penelope on the back of her neck, effectively taking her out of the game.

Cassiopeia gulped and looked away from the girl’s crumpled form. She parroted the direction Penelope had given her, and the game ended. The black chessmen parted in front of her and Jamie, bowing their heads in respect. Cassy didn’t return the gesture. The felt vaguely sick and turned to the other boy to see if he was fairing as well as she was. 

The poor boy, who was barely able to stay upright, was desperately attempting to house Penelope’s much bigger body onto his shoulders.

“Jamie,” she said softly. No response, “Jamie,” she repeated, louder this time. He looked up at her, (really it was more level. Even crouched down he was the same height as her,) brown eyes wide with fear. He was shaking, Cassy realized, “We’ve got to leave her here. We have no idea how much longer this is gonna take and it’ll take too long to drag her with us.”

“She’ll be crushed,” he whispered, clutching the older girl’s body tightly to his own.

Oh. She hadn’t thought of that.

Still, they couldn’t take her. She was easily twice Cassiopeia’s weight and Jamie barely had the strength to stand on his own, much less carry another body with him, “We’ll make her a shelter. Hide her under two large stones. Or something.” The excuse sounded weak to her own ears, but they had no other choice. They needed to _leave._

“I’ll stay with her,” Jamie insisted, who was looking more and more animals. Cassy found herself wondering just how much history these two shared, “I’ll be more of a hindrance to you with my probably-broken leg, but if I stay here, I can maneuver the both of us so we’re safe. And then we’ll be rescued after you go and find help.”

Cassy studied the Hufflepuff for a moment, “Okay. Okay, that’ll work.” She hoped none of the other challenges required multiple people, or some skill she didn’t possess. Her two schoolmates were counting on her. With one last fleeting look over her shoulder, Cassy walked, alone, towards the next challenge. 

The next room was filled only with the dead carcass of what Cassiopeia thought was a Mountain Troll. She’d done some research into the creature after Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger had supposedly defeated it, but she wasn’t really sure. She was just glad it was dead.

The ground shook beneath her feet again and Cassy could only hope her friends (Were they friends? Cassy certainly felt closer with them than she had any other person in the school. Except Daphne and Hermione, but whatever,) were alright.

Cassy stepped through the door on the opposite side of the room and was greeted with the ominous sight of a line of both tall and short glasses, backed by a wall of black fire. Behind her, purple flames sprung up, blocking her exit. She silently wished to every celestial being that the professors had some way to get through the fire.

She walked over to the table and retrieved the note that was set in the center. It read, in an elegant script that Cassy was _sure_ she recognized, 

_Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,_

_Two of us will help you, which ever you would find,_

_One among us seven will let you move ahead,_

_Another will transport the drinker back instead,_

_Two among our number hold only nettle wine,_

_Three of us are killers, waiting bidden in line._

_Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,_

_To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:_

_First, however slyly the poison tries to hide_

_You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;_

_Second, different are those who stand at either end,_

_But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;_

_Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,_

_Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;_

_Fourth, the second left and the second on the right_

_Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight_

“Okay,” Cassy said aloud, mentally reviewing the information she’d been presented with, “Okay. So this is about potions. I can do potions. I know potions.”

And she did. If it weren’t for Snape’s biased grading, it would probably be her best class. Since that first day where the man had tried to humiliate her, Professor Snape had continuously asked her harder and harder questions in an attempt to humiliate her. Cassy, refusing to let him win, had studied ahead in the class. So far ahead that she wouldn’t be surprised if she knew more about the subject than Draco Malfoy, Snape’s prized student. 

“Three are poison,” that much was obvious. The riddle outright said so, “Two are wine…” she trailed off, thinking. One of the final two was the potions that allowed her to get through the flames. But which was which?

The smallest. It was the smallest. That was the one she needed to drink to get through the black flames. She hoped it was enough, there was barely any potion in the tiny jar. Then again, Cassiopeia doubted the riddle maker would leave a solution that didn’t work. She slipped the other, rounded bottle that would allow her to move through the purple flames into the pocket of her robe in case she needed it later. 

In a single gulp, she downed the contents of the smallest bottle and braced herself as she walked forward into the flames. 

The room was a mess. 

That was the first thing she noticed when she passed the threshold. It was easily the most destroyed room she had had the pleasure of gracing that day. 

The second thing she noticed was the body and the mirror. Specifically, the fact that the mirror was the same one she’d seen half a year before, the body was facing _away_ from said mirror, and the body was Professor Quirrell’s who, upon closer inspection, appeared to have a head _on the back of his head._

_WHAT WAS WRONG WITH THIS SCHOOL?_

She froze in place and silenced her breathing, hoping beyond all hope that the man (men? There were two of them,) hadn't noticed her. After years of living with the Dursleys, she was practically a master of moving unnoticed. Unfortunately, her efforts seemed to be futile. The man had already noticed her.

“Cassiopeia Potter, what a pleasure to meet you again. Though I can’t say it under much better circumstances,” a high, nasally voice froze the blood in her veins. It took her a moment to register that it _wasn’t Professor Quirrell’s voice talking,_ and that the other face was the one speaking. With a voice that was, terrifyingly, more familiar than her teacher’s, “Do you not recognize me?” the mock-offended tone seemed foreign in the speaker’s voice, “I’m offended, dear Cassy. I’ve known you since you were just a baby.”

What? What was he talking about? How could he have known her since she was a baby? Was he a friend of her parents, or-

_Oh_

The thought struck her like a bullet, easily draining her face from all of its color.

Voldemort laughed, high and nasally and _terrifying,_ “Remember me now, little girl? I must admit, it's a surprise to see you here, especially after you were sorted into Slytherin. I thought you'd have more self-preservation. Though, who am I kidding, you are a _Potter.”_ He said the word like it was a particularly dirty curse, his face still contorted in a deformed, gleeful smile. 

Cassiopeia instinctively took a step back, hissing as her back brushed the now-hot black flames behind her.

“Come here, little snake,” Voldemort demanded, the beckoning motion with her hand looking odd from where he was positioned on Quirrell’s back, “There might be something you could help me with. You see, I’m having issues with this mirror.”

“And why would I help you?” Cassy replied bitingly. She instantly cursed Daphne and every time the older girl had raised her confidence. It was going to get her killed.

To her surprise, Voldemort just laughed, “Imitating the Malfoys, are you? I’ll tell you why you should help. You see, I happen to be _very_ aware of your two little friends a couple of rooms over, A bit of controlled rage, and could send the entire ceiling toppling onto them.” Cassy sucked in a harsh breath, realizing he probably _could_ do that, “Yes, you recognize your predicament now, don’t you? Well then, come along.” 

Cassy slowly moved towards her parents’ murderer, and he gestured for her to stand before the mirror, “Now, I’m looking for something called the Philosopher’s Stone, though I doubt you've heard of it. I’m sure Dumbledore, that meddling old Headmaster, has stuck it in the mirror somehow. He’s probably enchanted it so only a _pure soul,”_ again, the sarcasm sounded unnatural in his voice, “ will be able to retrieve it. You most likely fall into that category.”

“The Philosopher's Stone?” she asked in a painfully small voice, refusing to meet her reflection’s stare.

“Indeed. Come on now, look up. Tell me what you see.”

Hesitantly, she glanced upward, meeting the shining stare of her double. Not-Cassiopeia grinned at her, showing her the shiny ruby-like stone she held in her grip. With a wink, she pressed her finger to her mouth and slipped the stone into her pocket. Cassy startled violently when she felt a sudden weight in her pocket, alerting Voldemort to something happening.

“What? What is it?” he hissed. 

_Shit._ What did she do? She was pretty sure the Philosopher's Stone was now sitting in the pocket of her school robes. Okay, okay. Think like Daphne. How could she use this to her advantage?

She was quiet for a moment, staring directly into the eyes of Not-Cassiopeia, “I have the stone.”

Voldemort’s eyes went wide with glee, “Give it to me,” he reached forward with one of Quirrell’s bony arms, but she danced out of his grip, “What are you doing? Give it here.”

“Not so fast. I have some demands to make.”

He snarled at her, “Are you stupid? I could kill your friends in an instant.”

“It's really not that big of a deal. You’re supposed to be the most powerful wizard, right?” Second most powerful, but there was no way Cassiopeia was gonna say that to his face, “I just want you to heal my friends. That’s it. One of them was knocked unconscious, and the other is bleeding heavily. Just, fix them. And I’ll give you the stone. They’re both purebloods, so you won't have to dirty your hands.” That actually wasn’t true, she had no idea if Jamie was a pureblood or not but, judging by his relationship with known-pureblood Penelope Clearwater, he was at least a halfblood.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes at her, snarl still fixed firmly on his snake-like face, “Very well. If you do not follow your rules, I will kill both you and your friends and pluck the stones from your corpse.”

“A-alright.” She was still unsure about how to deal with _very real_ threats to her life. 

Voldemort whooshed away the black flames with Quirrell's wand like they weren’t even there, though they both drank the other potion in order to pass through the purple fire. The odd pair walked past the rotting carcass of the troll and, finally, they were at her friends.

Jamie had passed out from blood loss and Cassy could only thank the gods that Voldemort had not had any more fits of rage (or whatever had been causing the rooms to shake).

Voldemort squatted in front of them, which, again, looked very odd in Quirrell’s body, and pursed his thin lips. 

_“Brackium Emendo, Ferula,”_ he spoke, his wand hovering over Jamie’s leg. He moved the wand to Clearwater’s temple, _“Episkey.”_

He stood, turning to face her, “They’ll wake soon. Give me the stone.”

Cassy grimaced, but reached into her pocket and retrieved the stone. She might not be the average Slytherin, but Daphne had drilled enough self-preservation into her skull that she knew it would be stupid to oppose the literal _Dark Lord._ And hey, at least she had gotten something out of her deal. Her friends (?) were safe. 

When she moved to place the ruby-red stone in Quirrell’s sickly hand, her delicate fingers brushed against his own, and he jerked back in obvious pain, as if she had burned him. Out of nowhere, there was a bright flash of light and, suddenly, Headmaster Dumbledore was there, a flaming orange bird perched delicately on his tall shoulder. He quickly plucked the stone out of her still reach out hand.

“Young Miss Potter, please gather your friends and stay behind me.” His tone was kind but firm, and Cassy stumbled back at the sudden shock of seeing him there.

Still, the sound of Jamie groaning startled her back into action. She grabbed the two other students by their forearms and hauled them out of either professor’s line of sight. 

The two men moved in a flash of spells and dodges, so fast that Cassiopeia could barely keep up with them. The duel ended when Voldemort, awkward in his relatively new body, stumbled, allowing the Headmaster to capture him in a body binding spell.

But, while that may have stopped Quirrell, it did nothing to stop Voldemort. The face on the back of her Defense professor’s head contorted as it ripped himself off of the skin, disappearing into thin air as a wraith.

Dumbledore, instead of cursing and throwing his wand on the floor, which was something Cassy would’ve done, simply sighed and shook his head in disappointment.

“Are you alright, my dear girl?”

“What? Um, yes, I’m fine. My friends were hurt, but he saved them. Healed them. I was afraid Jamie might… might not make it. So I made a deal with him. Uh, I’m sorry sir, but how are you here? Out of nowhere?”

“Fawkes here has the ability to apparate within school grounds. I had a funny feeling, so I came down here as fast as I could,” he smiled kindly at her.

Cassy had no idea what apparating was, but there was something much more off in that sentence. Funny feeling? Bullshit. Dumbledore had arrived the moment before Voldemort would’ve gotten his hands on the stone, directly between him and Cassy. There was no way that was the product of a ‘funny feeling.’ The Headmaster must’ve known exactly what was happening down in this stupid cavern and had chosen to intervene only when he chose. Cassiopeia had no idea how he might’ve known, but she knew one thing for sure.

She needed to talk to Daphne. 

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · 

“Cassy!” Hermione flung herself forward into Cassy’s arms, thoroughly startling the poor girl, who’d been staring out the hospital wing window.

“Hermione,” Cassy smiled up at the frowning girl, “and Daphne. Are you alright?” She glanced at the blonde girl standing a few paces behind Hermione. Cassiopeia knew she’d been on the same floor as her during the first incident.

Daphne glared at her, but before she could scold her for her recklessness, Hermione spoke, “Why are you asking _her_ if she’s alright? You’re the one who ran head first into danger! Daphne told me everything that happened, so don’t even _try_ to lie!” Daphne’s frown deepened at the use of her first name, but she kept quiet, “But neither of us knows what happened once the floor collapsed. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. I’m only in here because Headmaster Dumbledore apparated me here, or whatever. And then Madam Pomphrey wouldn’t let me leave.”

“Apparated you? That shouldn’t be possible inside of Hogwarts,” Daphne pointed out.

“He said something like that. But, apparently, he has this bird that lets him do it or something. It's big and red-ish gold.”

Hermione’s eyes widened, “A phoenix! I can’t believe the Headmaster has one! He’s such an incredible man.”

Cassiopeia scoffed, she was still pretty pissed, “You might think so.”

Hermione’s chocolate eyebrows knit together, “What do you mean by that? 

Before Cassy could open her mouth to explain, Daphne shot her a look, “We can have this discussion later in a more… private place. Perhaps we could move this to the library?” she asked, though it wasn’t really a question. When Daphne proposed something, it was best to just agree.

Hermione seemed to pick up on the same thing, because she nodded, “That works. Exams are over anyway, so I don’t need to study much.”

“Right. Well, let's go then,” the blonde haired girl smiled at Madam Pomphrey when the woman looked up from her papers, “Madam, Cassiopeia is going to be taking her leave now. She says she’ll be more comfortable resting in her bed in the dorms. If that's alright with you, of course.

The Madam’s lips pursed, “Well, as long as she promises to rest… That’s alright. Take care dears.”

“We will.”

The trio strode out of the hospital room, Daphne’s heeled footsteps leading the way to the library.

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · 

“Alright, tell me - us - what happened.”

Cassiopeia, sitting in one of the far corners of the library, stared into the icy blue eyes of her friend, and launched into her tale. 

When she finally finished, Daphne was leaning on one of the bookshelves deep in thought, and Hermione was frantically searching for whatever the Philosopher’s Stone was, since it was obviously very important to Voldemort (the _Dark Lord,_ Daphne instated, looking pale whenever Cassy spoke the name aloud).

“What do you think about dumbledore?” Cassiopeia asked Daphne, certain that Hermione wasn’t paying any attention to them.

“He could get in a lot of trouble if people found out that he willingly put you in danger…”

“And will people find out?”

“We need to talk to Draco.”

“The Philosopher’s Stone is a legendary alchemical substance capable of turning base metals such as mercury into gold or silver _and_ has the ability to make someone immortal!” Hermione shouted triumphantly from behind them, breaking off the two girls’ intense staring contest.

Cassy burst into giggles, Hermione was great.

“What. What happened? Why are you laughing?” the bushy haired girl demanded hotly, her hands on her hips.

Cassy just laughed harder.

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · 

“So, Greengrass, what’s this all about?” Draco sat across from them in the Slytherin Common Room, his pale face twisted into a snarl.

Daphne, who seemed completely unbothered by Malfoy’s rudeness, simply smiled, “Cassiopeia and I have some important information for you. Information that will greatly benefit your father.”

While Cassy hadn’t exactly been excited at the idea of helping the Malfoys, Daphne insisted that it was worth it in order to… persuade Dumbledore from messing with her life.

“My father?”

“Indeed. Cassiopeia, why don’t you tell the story for us?”

She obediently told the (heavily edited) tale of what had happened that day in the corridor that Daphne had coached into her. According to her, it was the best way to make herself look good and make Dumbledore look bad and while Cassy didn’t particularly care about looking good, she definitely cared about making Dumbledore look bad. 

Voldemort had been completely edited out of the story, instead, he had been replaced with the normal Professor Quirrell, who had been masquerading as a weak, stuttering Defense professor the entire year. Something about not inciting mass panic. And not being painted as the one who killed the Dark Lord… Again. Cassiopeia was pretty sure that wouldn't go down well with the majority of Slytherin. 

Much like how Daphne had reacted to her story, Draco was sitting completely still, his eyes wide and contemplating, “And… and why are you telling me this? I mean, we aren't exactly allies. Me and Potter I mean.”

Daphne raised an eyebrow, “You’re a Malfoy. Everyone knows you have the most pull in the Prophet, right after the Blacks and well, you don't really see any Blacks lying around, do you?”

Malfoy’s grey eyes lit up in understanding “You want an article in the Prophet. Merlin, with this, we might even be able to get Dumbledore removed from his position. At least to get him removed as the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. Okay,” he paused, considering what to do next, “Okay, Potter, I need you to write that down in a letter so my father can hand it off to the Prophet. Believe me, you do _not_ want to do a verbal interview with them. You swear that everything in there is true?”

“Yes,”

“Arlight. And you asked the two other students if they wanted to remain anonymous?”

Daphne spoke before, “We did. You don’t need to worry about all that. Just make sure Lord Malfoy gets this.” She handed Draco the already-prepared letter Daphne had written herself.

“Thank you, Heiress Greengrass, Heiress Potter. Blessed be.”

It was only because of Daphne’s lessons that she had any clue what he was talking about, “Blessed be, Heir Malfoy. It was a pleasure working with you.”

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · 

It was the first week of summer vacation that Cassiopeia received a letter from the Malfoy family informing her that the article would be going live the following day.

She smiled, pleasing the expensive looking parchment beneath one of her loose floorboards. If Dumbledore thought that she would happily dance to his tune, he wouldn't after tomorrow. She would be something better than his little Golden Girl. Something greater.

Something more.


	2. Power I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first half of Cassiopeia's second year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YALL ITS FINALLY DONE (even if its just the first half...) This took forever, but I had a lot of fun writing it. I just started my freshman year and omg hs is hard. check me out at my tumblr @tom-riddles-horcrux. I post mainly hp content there. Send me asks or prompts too! I'll totally answer them. I also have like fifty incorrect quotes for this series saved in my drafts, so I'll get around to posting those, too. The second half of this year will be out by who knows when just know that it IS coming. I have this story planned out until fifth year, so I won't be stopping.  
> Enjoy!

Cassy’s summer started out pretty terrible, considering the fact that she was living with the Durselys and all, and also the fact that she hadn’t gotten any mail from her friends since that first letter from the Malfoy family, but it only got _worse._ Predictable, really, considering her life so far. 

She’d been in her room (pretending she didn't exist) when some… _creature_ had popped into existence right in the middle of her room. Cassy was so, _so_ glad she hadn't screamed in shock. 

“What… What? Why are you here? What _are_ you?” Cassy stuttered out, her mouth moving too fast for her brain.

“Miss Potter! Oh, how Dobby has longed to meet you! Dobby is so very lucky!”

“Who on earth is Dobby?” Cassy asked, her voice harsher than she intended.

“I's is Dobby, miss. Dobby the house-elf.”

House-elf? Cassiopeia thought she recalled Daphne mentioned something about them when she had asked where the food at Hogwarts came from. They were servants. Cassy just hadn't expected them to look so… scraggly. 

“Er- hello, Dobby. It’s…” Cassiopeia thought of what she could say to get the creature - Dobby - to stop being so loud, “A pleasure to meet you of course, but I need you to speak quieter. There are guests over, and you can’t risk disturbing them.” That sounded snobby enough, right?

“Oh yes, of course, Miss Potter. Dobby had not meant to disturb. Dobby is here for a very important reason.”

“A reason? What is it?”

“Oh, yes, miss,” suddenly, he averted his gaze, wringing his hands, “It is very difficult, miss. Dobby wonders where to begin…”

Cassy knelt to his level (which, embarrassingly, wasn’t much shorter than her,) and stared into his tennis ball shaped eyes, “Dobby, if you aren’t going to say anything, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. I could get in a lot of trouble because you’re here. You don’t want me to get in trouble, do you?” 

“Of course not, Miss Potter. Dobby would never want Miss Potter to be in trouble!” Cassiopeia’s eyes softened at his earnestness, “That is why Dobby is here. Dobby wants to protect Miss Potter…”

“Protect? Dobby, what are you protecting me from?”

“Cassiopeia Potter mustn’t be returning to Hogwarts!” Dobby shouted, before freezing when he remembered he was supposed to be quiet, “Dobby is sorry, Miss Potter. Dobby is a _bad elf!”_ He pulled on his large floppy ears, using them to cover his face.

Cassy frowned, it looked like he was hurting himself, “Dobby, stop that. It’s alright. _Why_ can't I go back to Hogwarts?” No matter what Dobby said, Cassiopeia had every intention of returning to the school. It couldn't be much worse than the actual Lord Voldemort attacking her. 

“Dobby has heard that Miss Potter has fighted off a Death Eater! But the Death Eater was actually being He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!”

“Yes, that’s true,” Cassiopeia was instantly more suspicious of the little elf in her bedroom. How had he known that it was actually the Dark Lord?

Dobby wailed, shoving his face into a pillow to cover the sound, “Cassiopeia Potter is so very brave! Dobby is so lucky to be in her presence.”

“Thank you, Dobby. But why can’t I go to Hogwarts?”

“There is a… plot. At Hogwarts. It is very dangerous for Miss Potter.”

“What sort of plot, Dobby? You need to be less vague.”

Dobby whined, pulling on his ears again, “Dobby is a bad, _bad_ elf. Dobby cannot say anymore.”

“Stop that! You aren’t to do that anymore, Dobby. You're hurting yourself.”

“Miss Potter cares for Dobby! Miss Potter is so very kind!”

“Dobby, if you can't say anymore, then I’m going to go back to school. I can’t stay here. Besides, I have friends…” Cassiopeia suddenly thought about how none of her friends had sent her a single letter the entire summer, “Wait a minute. Dobby, did you-”

“Friends who don’t even write to you?”

“Dobby, have you been taking my letters?” Her voice was the cold tone she had learned from Daphne, and the house-elf shrunk away from it. 

“Dobby is sorry, Miss Potter. But Dobby was doing it for the best-” he cut off at Cassy’s glare, “Dobby has them right here, Miss.” He reached into his sack and produced a large stack of letters from seemingly nowhere. Cassy reached to snatch them away, but he snapped them back to his chest, “Dobby will give them to Miss Potter if she promises to not go to Hogwarts.”

Cassiopeia stared at the creature in front of her. There was absolutely nothing stopping her from lying. Nothing at all, “I’ll promise not to go if you promise not to steal my letters _and_ tell me who is plotting. Is it the Dark Lord?”

“Not He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Not him Miss…”

“Well, then who?”

“It is… it is a part of him.” Dobby’s hands twitched towards his ears to grab, but he resisted the urge, “Miss Potter promises not to go to Hogwarts?”

“Yes, Dobby, I promise. Now give me my letters.”

“Oh, thank you, Miss Potter. Dobby is so very grateful!”

Er- that’s nice,” Cassy felt a little guilty about lying to Dobby. He seemed nice enough, “Dobby, while you're here, could you unlock Hedwig's cage? She’s been stuck in there all summer.”

“Dobby would be happy to, miss!”

Hedwig chirped happily as she stretched her wings for the first time in months. With a toothy grin, Dobby disappeared with a too-loud _pop,_ and Cassy sat down with a sigh, preparing to write many, many letters. 

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

Cassy had accepted Hermione’s invitation to go school shopping with the Weasley family of all people (apparently, she was good friends with Ron. How that had happened, Cassy had no idea). Daphne, unfortunately, had said she probably wouldn’t be able to go, but she had given Cassiopeia a way to actually get there.

The Knight Bus was a horrible, _horrible_ creation. No, she wouldn’t be taking any criticism. Who the hell bought toothbrushes while on public transit? Wizards, apparently. 

Once she was in Diagon Alley, it wasn’t hard to spot the Weasley family. Even if Cassy hadn’t recognized them from that day at the train station, they would’ve been impossible to miss with their flaming heads of hair.

“Cassy!” Hermione shouted when the older girl finally spotted her, “I was so worried when you didn’t respond to any of my letters. How are you?”

Cassy felt her lips lift in a smile for the first time in too long, “Hey, Hermione. Hi Ron.”

“Er- hi.” The tall boy rubbed the back of his head, a nervous tick.

“Well now, kids. Cassy, so glad you could join us, let's go on now. Gilderoy Lockhart’s supposed to be doing a book signing today!” Mrs. Weasley said cheerfully. 

"We can actually meet him!" Hermione squealed. "I mean, he's written almost the whole booklist!" She certainly sounded a lot more cheerful then Cassy felt. 

There was a large crowd around the front of Flourish and Blotts, much bigger than the year before, and Cassy winced as the elbow of an older woman struck her in the nose. Hermione grabbed both her and Ron’s hands, dragging them to the front. 

Gilderoy Lockhart came slowly into view, seated at a table surrounded by large pictures of his own face, all winking and flashing dazzlingly white teeth at the crowd. The real Lockhart was wearing robes of forget-me-not blue that exactly matched his eyes; his pointed wizard's hat was set at a jaunty angle on his wavy hair. 

A short, irritable-looking man was dancing around taking photographs with a large black camera that emitted puffs of purple smoke with every blinding flash, "Out of the way, there," he snarled at Ron, moving back to get a better shot, "This is for the Daily Prophet."

"Big deal," said Ron, rubbing his foot where the photographer had stepped on it. 

Gilderoy Lockhart heard him. He looked up. He saw Ron and then he saw Cassy. He stared. Then he leapt to his feet and positively shouted, "It can't be Cassiopeia Potter?" The crowd parted, whispering excitedly and Cassy felt her stomach sink. Lockhart dived forward, seized Cassy's arm, and pulled her to the front. The only thing that kept her from stumbling was the years of practice she had of people pulling furiously at her arm. The crowd burst into applause. 

“Cassy, Cassy it truly is a pleasure to meet you!” The man looked positively delighted to see her and Cassiopeia tried to return the favor, “Come now, come now. Smile for the camera! Together, you and I are worth the front page.” 

Cassy wasn't so sure about the wizarding world, but in the muggle world, she was pretty sure it was illegal to photograph a minor without their consent. Nevertheless, the rude man with the camera who had snarled at Ron Weasley snapped away. 

A moment later, Lockhart's large hand was on her shoulder and he was quieting the crowd, "Ladies and gentlemen," he said loudly, "What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I've been sitting on for some time! 

“When young Cassiopeia here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography - which I shall be happy to present to her now, free of charge!" The crowd applauded again. She didn’t even _want_ the damn book! "She had no idea," Lockhart continued, ruffling Cassy’s already messy hair, "that she would shortly be getting much, much more than my book, Magical Me. She and her schoolmates will, in fact, be getting the real magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

 _No,_ Cassy thought in dread, ignoring the roar of the crowd. Even Hermione was beaming. Traitor. 

Doing her best to school her face into a smile, she happily accepted the tall stack of books from one of the stony faced people standing behind Lockhart. Why the man who had supposedly defeated tons of monsters needed bodyguards, Cassiopeia had no idea. God, how the hell did Hermione believe this poser. 

Cassy turned away from Lockhart and bumped directly into another Weasley. Not Ron, but a girl. Had she been there before?

“Um, hello there.”

“H-hi,” the girl squeaked, turning a brilliant shade of red. 

“Are you alright? You look a little pink.”

Weasley covered her face with her hands, “I’m fine,” she peeked out from between her fingers, “You’re Cassy Potter, right?”

The dark haired girl paused for a moment, she _had_ promised Daphne, “Cassiopeia. And you are?”

“G-ginny. Is it true you’re a Slytherin?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

Cassy blinked, definitely not expecting that, “Oh! Uh, it’s fine. How come? I mean, our house does have some unsavory people, but I like it there.”

Ginny’s hand finally fell from her face, frowning, “But you’re Cassy Potter.”

“ _Cassiopeia_. And so what? I’m Cassiopeia Potter who is also a Slytherin. And there isn’t anyone wrong with that,” it was Cassy’s turn to frown, “Who told you there was?”

Ginny wrung her hands together, “Well, my brothers always talk about Slytherins… They say that there wasn’t a single Dark wizard not from Slytherin.”

Cassiopeia nodded. She’d definitely heard that one before, “I thought that too, Ginny, I’ll be honest. But then I was sorted into Slytherin. I even made some Slytherin friends!” _Some_ was definitely pushing it, since the only Slytherin friend she had was Daphne, and she wasn’t even sure they we’re really friends… but Ginny didn’t need to know that, “While there are some Slytherins there definitely aren’t the nicest people, that’s true in every house. Hermione was bullied by a few Gryffindors last year. Hell, there are even some rude Hufflepuffs! Bloody Zacharias Smith. So you shouldn’t just hate someone because they’re a Slytherin. Oh, wait. I have an idea! Why don’t I just be your first Slytherin friend?” She grinned at Ginny, and the girl went as red as her hair again.

“Yes, um. Okay. That sounds nice.”

“Great!” Cassy could always use new friends. She was sorely lacking, “Uh why don’t you take these books. I don’t really need them. Here.” She shoved the huge stack of books into the youngest Weasley’s arms, her eyes flitting to the person behind Ginny and accidentally making direct eye contact with Draco Malfoy, who’d been staring at her for her entire conversation with Ginny. She raised an eyebrow at him. What the hell?

He glared furiously at her and pointedly looked away. Whatever.

“And why don’t we keep in contact for the rest of the summer? Do you have an owl?”

“Y-yes.”

“Perfect!”

"Well, well, well - Arthur Weasley." 

The sneering voice stole her attention away from the redhead in front of her. Whatever comeback her mood had been making sense meeting Ginny was instantly squashed. It was Lord Malfoy. He stood with his hand on Draco's shoulder, his eyebrow raised in the same way as Cassiopeia's had a moment before. 

Oh boy. There was no way she was getting involved with that. Judging from the dark look on Mr. Weasley’s face, it would not end well. She grabbed Hermione’s arm and dragged her away from the two men. Judging from the large crash she heard from behind her, it was the right choice. 

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

“Daphne!” Cassy shouted in surprise as she spotted her blonde haired friend (There was that question again. Were they friends?) outside of Flourish and Blotts. Soon after she had dragged Hermione away from whatever was happening between Lord Malfoy and Mr. Weasley, Cassiopeia had realized she didn’t have enough wizarding money left over from the year before to buy the huge amount of books Lockhart had assigned for class, and she definitely wasn’t going to steal the books she had given Ginny… so she was off to Gringotts, “I thought you said you couldn’t make it?”

Daphne smiled slyly, “I said Mother wouldn’t let me be caught dead hanging out with the Weasleys, not that she wouldn't let me be caught hanging out with you. She approves of my relationship with you and is glad you’ve taken an interest in wizarding culture.”

Cassy rolled her eyes at the other girl, “I wouldn’t say I’ve _taken an interest._ More like you’re shoving it down my throat.”

“Of course, dear,” Daphne said, swatting at Cassy’s arm, “Where are you headed?”

“Gringotts.” Daphne raised an eyebrow in question, “I… forgot my money. I’m not really sure how to get it though, to be honest.”

Daphne hooked her arm with Cassiopeia’s, “You don’t have your key?”

“Er, no. Hagrid didn’t give it to me when we went shopping last year.”

“That oaf took you shopping? Typical. And he didn’t give it to you? No worries, you can always ask for a blood test. Actually, why don’t we do an inheritance test, just so you can claim your Potter heirship officially? I’m guessing that half breed didn't have you take one?”

“Considering the fact that I don’t know what that is, no he didn’t. And don’t call him a half breed, his name is Hagrid.”

“...Hagrid...right. Well, come along now. This is actually really important Cassiopeia. Normally, you would’ve taken your test exactly on your eleventh birthday. But since there wasn’t anyone to do that with you…” she trailed off, examining Cassy’s face with her pretty blue eyes, “I’m very honored to be doing this with you, Cassiopeia,” she said softly.

Cassy smiled back, “Thanks, Daphne.”

Yeah. They were definitely friends.

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

“Business?” asked a harsh looking goblin who was sitting at one of the teller stands.

Daphne didn’t seem the least bit intimidated by him, “I’m Heiress Greengrass, and I’m here with Cassiopeia Potter. We will be accessing her vault today.”

“Key?”

“Unfortunately not. We will also be requiring an inheritance test.”

The goblin furrowed its non-existent eyebrows, “Cassiopeia Potter is over the age of eleven, correct?”

“Indeed. However, she was not taken for her test then, so she will be taking it today. Will there be a problem with that?”

“No, Heiress. Right this way. I will take you to the Potter’s personal goblin.”

“Of course.”

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

“I would like to claim my inheritances. Now, please.” Cassy winced at the sound of her own voice. Daphne had insisted she take the lead for her interactions with her parent’s personal goblin, but she just felt rude. 

Waldorf, the goblin who had managed her accounts for the ten years that her parents had been dead, eyed her suspiciously before shifting through some of the papers on his desk. 

“Cassiopeia Lily Potter, correct?”

“Yes sir.”

He handed her two different papers from his desk, “And you’re here for an inheritance test?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Hmm, any particular reason you did not grace us with your presence on your eleventh birthday?”

“There was no one to take me. I hadn’t even known about wizards until that exact day. I was raised by muggles.”

“I see. Very well,” was his only reaction. It was so unlike the way Daphne had responded she had to hold in a giggle. Even just now, Daphne had stiffened beside her at the very _mention_ of her muggle relatives, like the notion offended her.

“In order to complete your inheritance,” Waldorf carried on, unaware of Cassy’s amusement, “You will need to slice your left palm and bleed onto this paper.”

Cassy’s amusement quickly faded. _Bleed?_ She glanced over to Daphne to see if she looked alarmed as Cassy felt, but the other girl just smiled at her calmly. Of course. Bloody wizards.

 _“Right._ And how much do I have to bleed exactly?”

“Do not be concerned, Miss Potter. Because this is a magical ceremony, the cut will not do much more than sting. However, I would have to dissuade you from healing your wound with any magical treatments. Magical injuries are known to react poorly to any magical aggravation. Though muggle treatment is perfectly fine.”

“Okay then, let’s get started,” she said, sounding much more confident than she felt. She would simply have to trust Daphne on this, “What paper am I bleeding onto?”

“This one,” Waldorf slid an ordinary looking piece of parchment across his desk. Cassy gulped at the sight of the large, double sided dagger he withdrew from his desk, “Simply grip the blade tightly in your palm and pull. Squeeze your hand and let the blood drip onto the paper.”

Right. Simple.

Following his instructions, Cassiopeia squeezed the dagger tightly in her small hand and yanked it. She hissed at the pain, but it quickly faded. Huh, that wasn’t so bad.

She opened her eyes and stared, slightly mesmerized by the paths of blood dripping down her wrist.

“Hold it over the paper!” Waldorf directed harshly. Cassy quickly complied. 

The trio waited in bated breath as the rivets of blood slowly spread out into words. _Cassiopeia Lily Potter_ was the first to appear, but, soon, other words began to form beneath it. 

In beautiful calligraphy, the entire sheet went like this:

_Cassiopeia Lily Potter_

_Daughter of Lord and Lady Potter_

_Goddaughter to Lord Black and Miss Longbottom_

_Heir to the Potter line_

_Heir to the Black line_

_Claimable vaults:_

_Potter Trust Vault_

_Black Trust Vault_

Cassy handed the sheet to Daphne after she had finished reading it, confident that the other girl would have much better luck at deciphering it. 

“Sirius Black is your godfather? I’ve heard of him. Merlin, to think-” she stopped mid-sentence, pinning Cassiopeia with her wide gaze.

“Cassiopeia Potter, did you know you were the Black heir?”

“Er, no? Well, isn’t that kinda what you said that night in my dorm room?”

“What?” Daphne seemed actually baffled, which probably wasn’t good, “No. No, when did I say that? I said that you were a _relative,_ not the heir! Oh, Merlin, Malfoy is going to be absolutely pissed.”

That certainly brightened Cassy’s mood. Absentmindedly, she took the cloth Waldorf offered her for her still bleeding hand.

“Ladies,” the goblin said, “It seems that your claim of you being Cassiopeia Potter is, indeed, true. I will need a moment to collect the Black heir ring, as I only have the Potter one with me right now. Additionally, I would like you to know that I am _not_ the goblin that handles the Black family funds and it would be unwise to make me it. Instead, you should contact Thornar, the Black family manager. Just a moment.” 

The small figure rose from his chair and waddled (Cassy tried not to think of it as waddling. That was probably rude.) out the door, presumably to retrieve Cassy’s heir ring. Cassiopeia had only a vague idea what one was, she knew that Malfoy always had his displayed proudly on his finger and that Daphne preferred to wear hers on a necklace around her neck, in respect to her older brother, who had died a little while after she had been born, but other than that, nothing.

“So… Daphne. Do you wanna explain what exactly an heir ring is?” she prompted hopefully. 

Daphne sat down on one of the fancy looking chairs in the goblin’s office and ruffled her hair in a distinctly un-Daphne like manner, “I’m still reeling over the fact that _you’re_ heir Black.”

Cassy puffed out her cheeks and huffed, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Daphne looked up at her, unimpressed, “No offense Cassiopeia, but you're not exactly well entrenched in Pure Blood culture. Besides, the Blacks are a very old, very powerful _dark_ family, and the Potters are, well, _not._ In fact,” she stood suddenly and walked behind Waldorf’s desk and began rustling around, “Aha! I knew he’d have it in here. _This_ is your family tree,” Cassiopeia moved to stand behind the taller girl, “If you trace up your line, yeah that’s what I thought. You haven’t had pure Black blood in your line since your great grandmother. There’s no way that would qualify you for the heirship over Draco. _Especially_ because he’s older. That means you were probably _named_ the heiress, most likely by,” she circled around the desk and picked up Cassy’s inheritance test, “This guy, Sirius Black. Weird.”

“What’s so weird about that? He was my Godfather, wasn’t he?” 

“Is. He _is_ your Godfather. He’s still alive.”

“Oh,” Cassiopeia had just assumed he was dead, since he hadn’t taken care of her. Cassy was almost _certain_ Alice Longbottom was dead, since she knew that poor Neville Longbottom lived with his grandmother.

“He’s imprisoned in Azkaban.”

“What for?”

“He was said to be the Dark Lord’s closest supporter. But they didn’t find that out until after you… killed him. He was also best friends with your parents. Cassiopeia…” Daphne got that same soft look on her face that she always had when someone mentioned her parents, “He’s the reason your parents are dead. He sold them out to the Dark Lord.”

“Oh.”

There it was again, the same ability to only ever feel something akin to regret when it came to her parents. She had never known them, so it wasn't like she could really mourn them or grieve in any way. The first thought that she conjured in her mind in light of Sirius Black’s betrayal was, _Well, I guess I’m glad he didn’t raise me._

“Wait a minute,” Cassiopeia said, suddenly realizing something, “If he supported the Dark Lord, then why the hell did he name me his heir?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe it was to gain Lord Potter’s trust or something. He must’ve had enough confidence that he would be able to retract his statement after he died.”

Cassy glared down at his name, “Well, fuck it. I’m not gonna let him do that. Where’s my bloody heir ring?”

“Right here, Miss Potter,” Waldorf spoke, startling both Cassiopeia and Daphne. The short goblin produced two velvet boxes and grinned, showing his needle-like teeth.

Cassiopeia left less than thirty minutes later with two new rings on her right hand and a bag that allowed her to withdraw money from both of her accounts.

The calligraphy at the top of her inheritance test firmly naming her as _Cassiopeia Lily Potter-Black._

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

Sat in his study, a tall, dark haired man glanced up from the pages of the book he’d been reading, alerted by the sudden use of magic. The tapestry.

Right beneath the current Lord Black’s place on the mural, a new line appeared, signifying a claimed heirship.

The man waited with bated breath, pondering to whom the silver line would branch out to. Certainly not Draco, the boy had already claimed all of his inheritances. But if not Narcissa’s boy, who?

His question was soon answered as the thread traveled to the very outskirts of the tapestry, signifying someone without a strong connection to the Black line. His heart sank when he realized who it was.

 _Cassiopeia Lily Potter-Black,_ was Sirius Black’s heir.

Of - bloody - course.

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

Cassy doesn’t see the Weasley family again until she arrives at Kings Cross. She and Ginny had been talking to each other over the summer, mostly Ginny asking the older girl about her time at Hogwarts and what each house is like, and Cassy feels comfortable saying that they were friends. 

(She ignored the rush of elation at the thought. Having a friend would’ve been inconceivable to ten year old Cassiopeia.)

“Ginny!” she called happily to get the red head’s attention, “How are you? Excited?”

Ginny grinned back at her, though her face was a bit too red to be healthy, “Hi Cassiopeia! I am. Nervous, too.”

Cassy wasn’t quite sure why’d she be nervous, coming from a wizarding family and all, but she was quick to reassure her, “Don’t be. No matter what house you’re sorted into, you’ll make a ton of friends. You’re cool.”

Ginny squeaks and covers her crimson face, but nods, “Thanks.”

“Hey!”

The voice of a little boy trying to sound intimidating interrupted her conversation. Ron Weasley shoved his way between Cassiopeia and his sister, scowling.

“Ginny, I told you you shouldn’t talk to her. She’s a snake.”

Where was the animosity coming from? Just a few weeks ago Ron had been perfectly pleasant to her, if not a little awkward. 

Ginny scowled and crossed her arms defensively, “Shut up, Ron. No one cares what you think.”

Ron’s ears went red, “Be quiet. Come here, Potter. I wanna talk to you.” He grabbed her arm and yanked her away from his sister, “Don’t follow us, Ginny.”

Ginny, of course, followed. In the back of her mind, Cassiopeia noted that the rest of the Weasley family had already made it through the barrier. 

“I don’t care what you do, as long as you don’t talk to my sister,” Ron said in a twelve year old boy’s imitation of a whisper, “Are time she gets one of your stupid letters she goes on a rant about how Slytherins _aren’t that bad_ and are _actually misunderstood,_ ” he said the last part in high pitched, girly voice. Presumably mocking Ginny. For the first time since Ron Weasley had opened his mouth that day, Cassy felt the urge to punch him, “That’s stupid. She’s gonna end up with the wrong type of friends because of you. Leave her alone.”

Cassy scowled back at him, “Ginny is my friend, no matter what you say. She’s her own person and you don’t get to boss her around just because you’re her older brother,” behind Ron, tension visibly deflated from Ginny’s shoulders, “Now get out of my way. We’re going to miss the train.” She pushed a fuming Ron Weasley out of the way and jogged toward the brick wall separating the space they were in from Platform 9 ¾. Clenching her hands on her cart, Cassy picked up the pace and rushed the barrier.

And promptly crashed into a brick wall. What?

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

They had been arguing for several minutes and they _still_ couldn’t agree on a solution to getting to Hogwarts. The platform was obviously a no-go, all three of them had tested it, and Ron absolutely refused to listen to any suggestion Cassiopeia made, apparently on the basis that she was a Slytherin and all Slytherins were evil.

“You know what, Ron?” Cassy finally felt her patience snap, “You can fly to Hogwarts on your Dad’s death automobile if you want. _I_ am going to ride the Knight bus to Hogsmede, with or without you. Ginny,” the youngest Weasley snapped to attention, “Are you going with Ron or with me?”

Ginny stared at her brother for a moment before scowling angrily, “I’m going with Cassiopeia.” She turned quickly, some of her long, red hair hitting her brother in the face.

“Ginny!” Ron stuttered, but seemed to swallow his words, “Whatever.” He stomped towards the entrance and presumably to the flying car he claimed his family had.

“Come on,” Cassy said to Ginny, before calming following Ron out the exit, “Let’s go.”

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

It took a five hour long, very bumpy bus ride to get to Hogsmeade. All in all, Cassiopeia wasn’t sure if she considered it a better alternative to the seven hour train ride that she had taken the year before. Though she definitely _did_ feel a little guilty that Ginny wouldn’t be able to experience the Hogwarts Express in her first year, but she seemed content with her hot chocolate.

Once they were actually _in_ Hogsmeade, Cassy wasn’t sure what to do. She suggested just walking to the castle to Ginny, and the younger girl just looked at her strangely. 

“Why don’t we just floo in?” she asked, her head tilting in a way that resembled a curious puppy. 

“Huh?” Cassy asked eloquently.

“Floo. You know, floo powder?”

Cassy didn’t, in fact, know, and she felt a little silly as the younger girl explained it to her.

“Oh, alright then. After we change into our school robes, we can floo into Hogwarts. Are you sure it works?”

Ginny nodded, “Definitely. In first year, Fred and George stirred up so much trouble that Mum actually floo-ed in personally to scold them,” she grinned, “It was really funny.”

After changing, the first floo-connected fireplace that the duo was in Madam Puddifoots, a painfully pink and frilly tea shop.

When Cassy had offered to pay for some floo powder, the woman had taken one look at the scar on her forehead and insisted she use it for free, not even questioning why two children were out in Hogsmeade while they were supposed to be on the express. Maybe students missed the train more often than Cassiopeia originally assumed. She certainly hoped so. 

Cassiopeia stepped through the green flames and spoke clearly, “Hogwarts castle.” She was expecting some burning or heat because, you know, flames. But what she wasn’t expecting was the lurching, nausea inducing feeling of being whirled around without any sense of direction. Lovely. 

Finally, Cassy stumbled out of the fireplace and straight into Dumbledore’s office, Ginny following quickly behind her. 

“Miss Potter, Miss Weasley,” Dumbledore said, sounding completely unsurprised, “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

_How the hell was Cassy supposed to deal with this?_

Cassiopeia cleared her throat. She was the upperclassman here, she needed to set a good example for Ginny, “Er, hello Headmaster. Ginny and I ran into a bit of a problem with the barrier at Kings Cross so we decided it would be better to just take the Knight Bus to Honeydukes and floo here. I hope that isn’t against the rules or… something,” she trailed off lamely.

Dumbledore smiled jovially at the two of them, “Certainly not my dear girls. Miss Potter, you can head down to the Great Hall to wait for the other students to arrive. Miss Weasley, as a first year, I must ask for your first Hogwarts experience to be when you get yourself sorted. Would you be alright waiting in the Entrance Hall?”

God, Ginny hadn’t even gotten that _‘seeing Hogwarts for the first time on the lake moment’!_ Now Cassy definitely felt guilty. 

“Um, that’s alright…” Ginny said, speaking for the first time.

“I’ll stay with her, Headmaster. We have our stuff with us, so we can sit and read while we wait for the others.”

“Wonderful idea, Miss Potter!” The Headmaster clapped his hands together in a cheery gesture, “Now, why don’t you two just head on down. Might I suggest that Miss Potter guides Miss Weasley as Miss Weasley keeps her eyes closed?”

“That’s… alright I guess.”

God, Dumbledore really was weird.

As Cassy half walked half stumbled out of the Headmaster’s office with a blind Ginny by her side, she couldn’t help but feel as though she’d forgotten something. Oh my God, she’s forgotten to tell Dumbledore about Ron.

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

The other students arrived a bearable two hours later. Once Cassy had parted ways with an excited Ginny, she’d been greeted by a furious Hermione and a horrified Daphne.

“What was I supposed to do?” Cassiopeia asked angrily, “The passage was blocked! I took the safe way. Your _other_ friend is the one who’s flying his car across England.”

“I know!” Hermione argued back, “And I’m gonna yell at _him,_ too!”

“Alright, that’s enough you two,” Daphne said disapprovingly, “Granger, the feast is about to start, you should head back to your table.”

“Fine.”

“Lucy Asper!” McGonagall’s Scottish accent cut through the lingering chatter, effectively signaling the beginning of the sorting, “Hufflepuff!”

Cassy found herself zoning out slightly, though she did take note when Daphne’s little sister, Astoria, was sorted into Slytherin. Finally though, at the very end, Ginny’s name was called.

Admittedly, Cassiopeia expected the girl to be a shoe in for Gryffindor, just like the rest of her family. Instead, the hat stayed on her head longer, and longer, and longer, until the crowded Hall burst into whispers. It held an aching resemblance to Casey’s own sorting. Even more so when the hat finally opened his mouth and announced Slytherin!

A much more out together than Cassiopeia had been, though still slightly shaken, Ginny Weasley strode to the Slytherin table, her head held high. Cassy did her best to grin encouragingly at her as she sat down. Cassiopeia felt herself relax slightly as she immediately started an animated conversation with Astoria Greengrass.

The rest of the feast passed uneventfully, if you ignored Dumbledore’s usual _‘Nitwit, blubber, odment, tweet,’_ or whatever he said. 

It was nice, being back at Hogwarts. Being back home. 

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

Cassy’s first day back started with Mrs. Weasley sending Ron a Howler, which was a nice start. It had followed the same path of ‘pleasantly surprising’ until the day suddenly became _too_ pleasant and _too_ surprising. 

Lockhart’s classroom was… completely unlike how Cassiopeia expected it to be. Instead of being filled to the brim with photos of himself, the walls were decorated with different maps of obscure places Cassy had never heard of before (which wasn’t that surprising, really). On the board at the front of the classroom, _Rules of Dueling_ was written up at the top in neat calligraphy. 

“Hello, students,” Lockhart swept into the classroom, his signature smile pinched around the edges. It might’ve been cause for concern, but Cassiopeia didn’t question it. After all, she highly doubted the man actually _wanted_ to teach a bunch of second year brats, “Everyone in your seats. Now, please.” The voice was firmly Gilderoy, but the tone was so firm and… teacher-like. Maybe Cassy had judged the man too quickly after only meeting his public persona. 

“We have a lot to get to this year, I’m afraid. You’ve only been here for one year, and you’re already behind. Now I don’t say that to frighten you, I just want to impress upon you how important it is to pay attention in this class. Not knowing this material could be the difference between life and death. So,” he began to walk through the desks, handing out singular sheets of parchment, “I want all of you to write down every spell you can confidently perform. Don’t try to lie, if I feel that you are incapable of actually performing a spell, I will have you demonstrate it in front of the entire class. Any questions?”

Alright, Cassiopeia might’ve been more than a little off with her initial analysis, because Lockhart was not at _all_ like what she thought he’d be. Hermione was going to have a field day. 

There were ten minutes of silence as the students’ quills messily scribbled down their small inventory of spells. Bless Hermione for buying her a fountain pen the year before. 

“See, _this,”_ Lockhart began in that Lockhart-but-not-actually-Lockhart voice, “Is about half of what you would’ve known if you had a competent teacher in your first year. Instead, you got a foolish lackey of the Dark Lord on some inane quest to please his master.” There were a lot of murmurs from the Slytherins, but Lockhart quieted them with a look. Cassiopeia felt her respect for the man rise.

“Everyone put those books away. My manager was the one who insisted I require them for my class. Unfortunately, they are not meant to be consumed as textbooks, so they won’t be much help to you. Instead, I have supplied all of you copies of _The Ancient Arte of Dueling: Abridged Version_ by Sheen Malgrove. I’m not cruel enough to force twelve year olds to read the entire 2,000 pages of the original. This one highlights the parts that are most important that you understand _now,_ so you can build upon them later.”

Less reading? Lockhart really was a great guy.

“Everyone please turn to page six and follow along as I read. Ready? Okay then!”

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

“Quidditch tryouts?”

“Of course,” Daphne said, slowly picking apart a roll of bread with her manicured nails, “We’re second years. We can try out.”

“I thought first years could too. Aren’t they just not allowed to have their own brooms?”

The blonde girl hummed, clearly not paying attention to the conversation that _she_ started, “Perhaps. Either way, you didn’t answer my original question. Will you be participating?”

“Maybe. Do you think I’d make it on the team?”

“Probably not. Slytherin has a history of not accepting any female players.”

Cassy scowled, “That just makes me want to try out more.”

Daphne finally turned her attention back to Cassiopeia’s face and smiled, “I know, that’s why I told you.”

Cassiopeia leaned forward, recognizing what Daphne was doing. Occasionally, either when she felt bored or when she felt she needed to test how Cassy was retaining all the etiquette lessons that Daphne had forced into her the year before, the blonde girl would carefully lay out a situation in front of Cassy and have the younger girl explain why she was acting the way she was. Frustrating, but interesting. Which brought her to Daphne’s most recent test, why would she want Cassy to join the Slytherin Quidditch team?

Certainly not because she wanted to win more often. Daphne hadn’t attended a single game the year before, so she doubted Daphne cared all that much. Maybe to prove to the boys that girls were just as good at sports? Maybe… Cassy was one of the best flyers in her year, _and_ she was a girl. Still, that seemed more like something Hermione would be invested in. 

No, that wasn’t it either. Slowly, Cassiopeia began to sound out her answer, “Quidditch… the House team is… widely liked, isn’t it? If I join the team, I’ll have an extra layer of protection,” she paused to examine Daphne’s blank face, “Right?”

The older girl’s cold features broke into a proud smile, “Lovely job, Cassiopeia. That’s exactly right. And for more incentive, I heard from Pansy that Draco’s looking to be team Seeker, which would be the position you are aiming for, so you can snatch from right under his nose.”

Cassy grinned, “That does sound nice.”

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

The day of Quidditch tryouts arrived much too quickly in Cassy’s opinion. Miraculously, Daphne, being Daphne, had managed to procure a Nimbus 2001 for her to use, with the help of Cassy’s trust vaults. 

When she arrived at the Quidditch Pitch, she felt a surge of gratefulness for the blonde girl, it looked like Draco had the same one.

(Of course, he did, the rich bastard.) 

“What are _you_ doing here, Potter?” Malfoy asked in the rudest tone he’d used with her since the beginning of the school year. He looked her up and down, taking in her athletic clothing, and raised an eyebrow, “Don’t tell me you’re going to try out? You’re a _girl.”_

Cassy mimicked his unimpressed expression, “Just watch me, blondie. I’ll make the team.”

Draco laughed, he actually _laughed._ Cassy ignored the painful squeak of her teeth as she clenched her jaw in anger, “Yeah, _right_. You’re going for Seeker, aren’t you?” Cassiopeia nodded and he laughed again, “That’s what I thought. If I were you, I’d just drop out now. You won’t make the team no matter what.” He was still grinning like he’d won the lottery.

“The hell are you talking about, Malfoy.” Cassy asked, taking the bait, “We both know you aren’t that good.”

Malfoy’s grin grew, which probably wasn’t a good sign, “That’s where you’re wrong, Potter. As you know, the Malfoys are a very powerful family,” _Good_ _God, not again,_ “And my father has so graciously decided to buy Nimbus 2001s for every _member on the team._ Under the condition that I make whatever position I want to play, of course.”

Cassy crossed her arms and tilted her head back to stare at his much taller face, “So your father bought your way onto the team because you suck so much that you wouldn’t have made it otherwise?”

Malfoy sputtered furiously, his face an angry red, “Shut up, Potter. At least _I_ have parents to do things for me!”

If Cassiopeia had known her parents, she probably would’ve been more affected than she felt. Still, it was the principal of the thing, “Nice one, Malfoy. Making fun of the orphan for being an orphan. You really live up to the high Malfoy standards.”

“Shut up!” the blonde repeated eloquently, before storming off towards where the other players had gathered. Presumably to tattle on her, the bastard.

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

In the end, Flint had given _Cassy_ the position of Seeker, much to the horror of Malfoy. Though the Captain had managed to placate him with the Chaser position, assuring Draco that people paid _way_ more attention to the Chaser and they were actually the more important position. Bullshit, they all knew, but Malfoy took the bait.

The blonde was still furious with Cassiopeia though, which wasn’t very good. Still, it wasn’t anything Cassy hadn’t dealt with the year before. 

Daphne had been very impressed with her and, as payment, had stopped Cassiopeia’s etiquette lessons for the next couple days. Currently, they involved the proper way to conduct oneself during tea with the minister, as if Cassy ever needed to know that. Still, she was grateful for the break, even only two weeks into the school year. 

Hermione had been happy for her as well, especially when Cassy told her how she had put Malfoy in his place. But there was an equally annoying idiot she was more focused on.

“What did you even say to make him hate you so much?” Hermione asked as they walked through the charms corridor, her dark hair frizzing wildly around her face.

“I literally have no idea! Talk to his sister like she was her own person, maybe?”

Hermione grimaced at that, but kept walking, “Oh come on, that can’t be all.”

“Well, you already know about that stupid thing at King’s Cross and how he didn’t just _listen_ to me.”

“Did they ever figure out what happened with that?”

“No idea. I doubt it though. And it wasn’t like it mattered all that much.”

“Well, Ron did get detention from Professor Snape because of it.”

Cassy grinned, “True. That was nice.”

“Cassiopeia!” Hermione said angrily, reaching out to smack Cassy’s arm.

“What?” Cassy asked in an angry voice, but she was grinning, “You know he’s a prat. Don’t deny it! It’s true. Remember how he treated you at the beginning of last year?”

Hermione sniffed, “Yes well, I think he made up for that by saving me from a bloody troll.”

Cassy stumbled, dropping her books all over the hall. She whirled to face her friend, “That was _you?”_

Hermione frowned down at her, “Yes, didn’t I tell you?”

“W-what? No! All I heard about it was that Ron and Finnegan saved some random Muggle Born from a troll on Halloween!”

“Oh. Well, Ron and Seamus _did_ save me. Ron apologized and we became friends. Not so much Seamus, he’s still a little rude to me. Still copies off my Transfiguration homework, of course,” she muttered, mostly to herself. Cassy seriously considered sicking Flint and the rest of the Slytherin team of Finnegan, they were always looking for Gryffindors to go after. Though, Cassiopeia considered, they probably drew the line at twelve year olds. Probably. 

“Oh, by the way, do you have any idea what that weird voice was a couple nights ago? The really creepy one.”

Hermione looked at her weirdly, “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about. It was probably only in the dungeons.”

Cassy shrugged, “I guess.”

“Anyway,” Hermione said, changing the subject without a care, “I was _totally_ right about Professor Lockhart, just so you know.”

“ _Seriously_ , Hermione? I knew you were gonna say that. Stop laughing at me!”

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

“Alright, students,” Lockhart said in lieu of a hello, “Today, we’re going to start using the skills you’ve learned in this classroom. In the real world, you won’t have the benefit of your teacher standing on the sidelines waiting to step in if things get too dangerous. Therefore, I’m going to attempt to interfere as little as possible. Understand?” There was a chorus of ‘yes's and ‘got its’, “Wonderful. Any volunteers for our first pair? Miss Potter, come up here,” he said, despite Cassy not raising her hand. That was just her life, “And Mister Malfoy,” he picked, whose hand _was_ firmly in the air, “I think you’ll make an appropriate partner.” 

In the crowd, Daphne suddenly sat up much straighter, indicating to Cassiopeia that this was somehow more important than a random duel in class. Meh, she’d ask about it later. 

“In a traditional duel, the two of you stand ten paces apart,” he paused, “Did you not hear me? I said ten paces apart. Alright, bow. And wands at the ready,” despite seemingly addressing both of them, Lockhart’s entire attention seemed to be completely focused on Cassiopeia, “And… begin!”

Cassiopeia immediately fired off a spell. Years of living with the Dursleys had taught her that the price of one second of hesitation was usually a frying pan to the back of the head or an elbow directly into her side. 

Malfoy, to his credit, reacted almost as quickly as she did, “ _Stupefy!”_ he cried, adding enough flourish to his movement that Cassiopeia was almost surprised the spell worked. She was only vaguely aware of what Stupefy did (something about making people still, she recalled) and figured it was probably in her best interest to dodge.

The red light went whipping past her, flying through strands of her messy hair that she had collected into a ponytail. 

_“_ _Volatilis Lutum!”_ Cassy cast in response. The bat-bogey hex, it was the spell that Ginny had said she was most excited to perform. She’d learned about it from the twins, so Cassy assumed it must be pretty nasty. 

Nasty was an understatement. She winced and Draco screamed, clutching at his nose as a stream of bats flew out of his nostril. He fell to his knees, his lips curling in a snarl. 

Lockhart said nothing.

Cassy’s eyebrows drew together in a worried frown. She hadn’t meant to hurt him _that_ much. Who knew Ginny’s favorite spell would be so ruthless?

Draco pointed his wand at her again and, still crouched on the floor, cast, “ _Serpensortia!”_

A snake, not as big as the one from the zoo a year ago, burst from Malfoy’s wand, already poised to attack. 

It's attention immediately swiveled away from Cassiopeia, who was ten feet away, to one of the spectators in the crowd, who were _much_ closer. Shit, it was going to attack one of _them._

Cassy dared a glance up at Lockhart who was standing impassively on the other side of her, his hands behind his back. He said nothing. 

It was up to Cassiopeia to do something then. Just great. Would talking to it work? The snake from the zoo seemed content to listen to her, though, but that might've been because he was trapped in a cage. Well, there was no harm in trying, right?

Cassy took slow, deliberate steps until she was between the snake and the audience, _“Ssssstop it. I know you are scared, but I will not hurt you,”_ she hissed, ignoring the gasps from the people behind her. She had a much bigger problem staring her down, thank you very much. God, why did Malfoy always have to make things worse. 

Lockhart still hadn’t said anything. 

_“A ssssspeaker,”_ the snake hissed in return, and Cassy nodded. 

_“Er, right. Sure. I’m not sure how to send you back to where you came from, but you aren’t in any danger here. Are you alright?”_

_“I am fine, ssssspeaker.”_

_“Okay, that’sssss good. What type of sssssnake are you.”_

_“I have no need for the ussssselessss qualificationsssss of you wizardsssss. I am me.”_

_“Alright then…”_ Cassiopeia said, unsure of how to proceed. She’d calmed down the snake, now what? _“Here, jusssst- Climb onto my shoulder. If you want to. I’ll find sssssome way to get you home, but you’ll have to sssssstick with me for a while. Isssss that alright?”_

 _“Acceptable,”_ the snake agreed, slithering it’s way up onto Cassy’s shoulders. 

Alright, so, problem nullified. Now she just had to deal with Malfoy, who was still huddled on the ground, his jaw on the floor and his eyes wide. 

_“Stupefy!”_ she cried, taking advantage of his shock. Why was he shocked again? He was the one who’d summoned the damn snake, had he just expected her to let it attack someone? Idiot. 

Lockhart cleared his throat, speaking for the first time since the duel began, “Cassiopeia Potter is the winner. Back to your seats everyone.” His tone was swift and harsh, quickly disrupting the whispers of awe that were moving their way through the entirely Slytherin crowd.

“ _Cassiopeia_ !” Daphne hissed, grabbing the dark haired girl’s arm and pulling her down into the crowd, “Merlin. Of course, you’re a- _Merlin.”_

“What? What am I? Daphne if you don’t tell me why everyone’s freaking out I’m gonna lose it. Daphne!” Cassy said forcefully, “What is _happening_?” 

“And you have no idea, either?” the older girl sounded more hysterical than Cassiopeia had ever heard it.

“Daphne. Seriously, what is it?”

“Just-” she took a deep, calming breath and raised her hand in the air, “Professor Lockhart, sir. Cassiopeia isn’t feeling well and she’s asked me to accompany her to the hospital wing. Is that alright with you?”

Lockhart stared at the pair, obviously not believing them in the slightest, “Very well. You two are dismissed.”

“Thank you, sir,” Daphne said, pulling Cassy out of the room, leaving a class of gossiping Slytherins in her wake.

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

A _Parselmouth._ What the hell?

“Are you listening to me, Cassiopeia?” Daphne snapped, fed up with Cassy’s spacey attitude, “What did I just say to you?”

“Um, Malfoy something, leader something, duel something,” she paused at Daphne’s glower, “I’m sorry. I’ll try harder.”

Daphne’s face softened into something almost-fond, “It’s alright. This _is_ really important, though.” She led Cassy into a private corner of the Slytherin dorm and into a large, comfy chair. 

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Alright. As I was saying, by defeating Malfoy in that duel, you’ve now claimed his spot as leader of our year. Your claim is even more supported by your status as a- stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“You’ve got this look on your face where you think what I’m saying is stupid. It happens all the time when I talk about tradition.”

“Could you just… explain it a little more. What does the… _leader_ of Slytherin do, exactly.”

“They don’t have any real duties, it’s not an official position. You only have power because your year mates _say_ have power. If your denouncing of Malfoy hadn’t been so public, they might not have accepted you. Regardless, you one. Plus, you’re a _Pareselmouth._ And the Black heiress, though I know that you don’t want to tell them about that.”

“Wait a minute. Didn’t you say Malfoy was the previous leader?”

“Yes. As a Malfoy, he has the most standing in the house. For example, even though the Malfoy’s and the Greengrasses are technically both members of the Sacred 28-” Cassiopeia was immensely glad Daphne had already explained the concept to her, “-His name holds more power because his family is both richer and older than mine. In fact, there are two families in our house right now that are older. The Blacks,” she looked pointedly to Cassy, “And the Weasleys.”

 _“Ginny?”_ Cassiopeia asked in surprise. Her amazement was quickly quelled in a wave of guilt. She’d barely talked to Ginny since she’d joined her House. She made a mental note to check up on her later. 

“Indeed. Though her family name definitely isn’t the most… _influential,”_ Daphne’s face soured, “It's the second oldest in all of Slytherin. In fact, coupled with her Prewett heirship...”

“Heirship? You know what, I’m not even gonna ask. What I was _going_ to say was, why didn’t Malfoy just, like, order us all to be blood purists… or something?”

“Yeah, he definitely couldn’t do that. Number one, it would reinforce Slytherin’s bad reputation, which would definitely anger the older years. And, number two, it would get back to one of the professors, and they would _not_ be happy. I’m sure Dumbledore knows about and tolerates Slytherin’s system, but he’d definitely shut it down if he felt like it was spreading harmful stuff around the school. Slytherin’s two main objectives are to stay on top, and stay out of trouble.”

“That makes sense… I guess. Wait a minute, does that mean I could order them _not_ to be blood purists? That’ll be helping our reputation, right?”

“Well, you _could_ do that, technically. But I’m not sure they’ll listen to you. And if they do, it’ll just breed more animosity within our year. Which really isn’t a good thing. Especially not for you. You know, being Cassiopeia Potter and all. Regardless,” Daphne sighed, running a hand through her hair, “I’m more worried about animosity in _other_ houses right now. Being a Parselmouth… isn’t exactly going to improve your reputation. The good thing is is that our Defense class is made up of only Slytherins, so we might be able to get someone to control the spread of information-”

“Controlling the spread of information?” _Pansy Parkinson_ \- what the hell - asked, flipping herself over the backside of the couch and pushing her way into the tiny space between Daphne and Cassiopeia’s bodies, “Why, I thought you’d never ask. That does happen to be my specialty, after all.” Parkinson’s fake cheerful tone disappeared in an instant, and she rolled her eyes, “Circe, I thought you’d never suck it up and take Malfoys position. It felt like I was _dying_. Do you know how painful it is to endure his company for more than an hour at a time? It's excruciating.”

Cassiopeia just turned to look at Daphne for an explanation of what the hell was happening because, honestly, she was too exhausted to even open her mouth and ask.

“Ah, Parkinson,” Daphne said smoothly, not even missing a beat, “Making your move already? I’m impressed.”

“Oh, spare me the attitude, Greengrass, I’m not here to deal with you,” Pansy snorted, shifting so her entire torso was facing Cassiopeia instead, “Now, Miss Starry Night, I’m here for an alliance, okay? You forget every single thing I did under Malfoy and, in return, you get the _pleasure_ of everyone thinking you’re my best friend. How does that sound?”

“Um-”

“Great, we have a deal. I’ll get started on ‘controlling the spread of information’ as your so wonderful servant put it.” She stood to leave, but Cassy quickly grabbed her arm and sat her back down.

“Wait a minute. Hold on. We do _not_ have a deal. Why would I even want to be your friend in the first place? You suck.”

Pansy raised an eyebrow, looking painfully unimpressed, “I just told you I was gonna help you, right? There are literally no negative consequences for us being… friends. I help you, I don’t have to pretend to be in love with Malfoy anymore. I hate to say it, but you’re probably more tolerable than him, given that blondie over here is constantly hanging off your arm. So, there. Boom. Win, win.”

Cassy looked at her skeptically, “I guess so…” That _did_ make sense. And Daphne didn’t seem to have any objections to it, judging by the way she was calmly drinking her tea.

“Great. See you at breakfast then.”

“Right.”

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

Cassiopeia’s new friendship with Parkinson was… a weird one. Pansy insisted on walking to every class with her, taking the entire time to inform Cassy of every rotten secret she had managed to uncover that day. But, once they were out of the public eye, the dark haired girl would mysteriously disappear, seemingly to gather information.

Hermione and Pansy, predictably, hated each other. Parkinson, because Hermione was a Muggle Born, and Hermione, because Pansy never did her homework, preferring instead to submit tweaked versions of older student’s homework that she had gotten by way of blackmail. 

Still, Cassiopeia couldn’t say that she wasn’t grateful to her. While her being a Parselmouth was common knowledge around the school, it wasn’t like people were bullying her about it. In fact, _no one_ was bullying her at all. That hadn't happened since… _ever._ Cassy couldn’t think of a single time where everyone at school just… left her alone. With Dudley, that would’ve been impossible. And, while she hoped her first year at Hogwarts would’ve been different, everyone had spent pretty much the entire year freaking out about the Slytherin thing.

Now though, she went entire days without someone calling her a name in the hallways between classes. She wasn’t sure if it was a side effect of being friends with Pansy Parkinson, or it was caused by her joining the Quidditch team or some combination of both, but it was nice.

Which was, of course, why it needed to come to an end. 

Halloween started pretty much the same way it did before. Cassiopeia, alone in her room, trying her very best to be sad. Daphne had volunteered to stay with her, but Cassy had refused. Pansy actually _did_ stay behind, but not with Cassy. She holed up in her room, presumably to make it seem to everyone like she was comforting Cassy, while avoiding the task completely. Asshole.

Halloween went relatively normally. People didn’t come back early to the Common Room like they had the year before, and Cassy was just about to fall asleep when the door connecting her room to her shared bathroom burst open, a frantic Daphne rushing through.

“Do you have proof that you’ve been here the entire time?” she asked, her eyes frantically scanning every detail of her room.

“What?” Cassiopeia said, sitting up in bed, “What happened. What’s going on?”

“Do you have proof?” she repeated.

“No. No, I don’t think so. Why?”

“There was an attack. Or Mrs. Morris.”

“The cat? No offense, but why is that such a big deal? Last year there was a bloody troll that almost killed one of my best friends, so…”

“It’s not just that,” Daphne said scowling, having calmed down from her panic before, “She’s been petrified. And there was a message written in blood above her body.”

“A message in blood? What’d it say?”

 _“Enemies of the Heir Beware._ I think most of Slytherin has already figured out that it has something to do with the Chamber of Secrets.” She glanced back at Cassiopeia, suddenly realizing she had no idea what she was talking about, “It’s a legend dating back to the creation of Hogwarts. According to legend, before Slytherin left, he trapped a monster in this secret chamber, one that can only be released by his heir.”

“And what does this have to do with me staying in my room?”

“Well, you see…” Daphne suddenly looked very pained, “The mark of being Slytherin’s is… the ability to speak Parseltongue.”

Cassiopeia stared off into space for a good five seconds, processing the information, “They think _I_ did it?” she asked, horrified.

“Most likely, yes.”

“Well,” Cassy floundered, “How do I make them _not_ think that.”

“Pansy’s is probably already on it. Other than that, there isn’t much we can do. There will probably be a lot of animosity directed at you. Like, a lot a lot.”

“Damnit!” Cassy shouted, pulling uselessly at her hair. She wasn’t usually one to shout, but, “This is so unfair! This always happens! Can’t I just have a normal year?”

Daphne’s face soured, clearly unimpressed with her little outburst, “Cassiopeia, you’re the _Girl Who Lived._ I doubt you’ll ever have a normal day again.”

“I guess so,” she said, flopping back on her bed, her fight already exhausted, “Wait a minute. Did _you_ hear a voice?”

“A voice?”

“Creepy, hissy voice in the walls talking about killing people?”

Daphne now looked thoroughly concerned, “Cassiopeia, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Cassy rolled over, groaning, “Of course you don’t. Why would you?” she let out a strangled laugh.

Daphne stepped forwards with an outstretched hand and smoothed the hair out of Cassy’s face, “Why don’t you get some sleep. Today’s been pretty stressful.”

Cassiopeia felt a wave of love for her friend swell in her chest, “Yeah,” she said, just as softly, “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

“Okay then,” Daphne said, smoothing out her skirt, “We can figure things out tomorrow. I’ll see you then.”

“See ya’.” 

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

No matter how much they “figured things out”, the Slytherin trio of girls couldn’t do much to combat the vicious hatred Cassy was met with the following day. Or the day after that. Or the day after that.

She was mercilessly jinxed in the hallways, people would step on the back of her robes to trip her, and more than once she found her homework missing from her bag.

(Cassiopeia’s main suspect for that was Ernie MacMillan, the Hufflepuff who seemed to have a personal grudge against her.)

Thankfully, it was once again Defense class, one of the only periods that was only Slytherins. 

It was the most relaxed she’d felt all week, the only harassment she had to deal with was Malfoy glaring at her, but that had become a pretty normal part of everyday life, so she could deal with it.

“Miss Potter,” Lockhart said at the end of the lesson, “Would you mind staying after class?”

“U-uh yeah,” Cassy said, looking up from the etiquette book she’d been given by Daphne, “Sure, that’s fine,” she said, flustered. What could he possibly need her for. She hoped it wasn’t one of those “even though I’m not your Head of House, you can come to me whenever you want to talk, okay?” speeches that McGonagall had given her earlier in the week. Not that she didn’t appreciate it, it was just… how was she supposed to respond to that?

Daphne flashed her concerned look while packing up, her eyes promising to wait for her outside the classroom, no doubt with Pansy accompanying her. 

“Take a seat, Miss Potter,” Lockhart said, summoning a chair from one of the desks, “There's something I’d like to speak to you about.”

“Can I help you with something?” Cassiopeia asked, crossing her legs.

“On the contrary, in fact. There’s something _I_ can help _you_ with. I’ve been made aware that some of your school mates have engaged in some… less than savory behavior towards you after Mister Filch’s cat was paralyzed.”

 _That’s one way to put it,_ Cassy thought snidely.

“I believe it would be wise for you to engage in extra lessons with me. In order for you to learn how to defend yourself.”

“Defend… myself.” Cassiopeia wasn’t sure why she felt so skeptical. It wasn’t like she had a solid reason to distrust Lockhart. He seemed like he was a respectable person, but then again, Professor Quirrell had seemed mostly normal, too.

Still, she couldn’t deny that the offer was a good one. Cassy knew she was talented in Defense. It was the only class where she beat Hermione, and it was usually the only class where she looked forward to doing the homework. 

But Voldemort wasn’t dead, and he would probably come and attack her again if _(when)_ he managed to latch his soul onto another poor person. Some extra Defense classes probably wouldn’t hurt. 

“Alright…” she agreed, uncommonly reluctant, “When would they be?”

“After dinner. Every other day, most likely.”

Cassy blinked. That was more than she’d been expecting, “I think every other day is too much. I have etiquette lessons with Daphne on Wednesdays and Fridays, and study sessions with Hermione on Thursdays.”

Lockhart glanced down at her, his lips twisting into an unimpressed frown, “Are you telling me that you’re incapable of doing two things in one day.”

Cassiopeia scowled at him and crossed her arms, “Fine then. Every other day. Whatever.”

Amusement flashed in Lockhart's eyes, “Very well then, Miss Potter. We will begin in one week’s time.”

Taking that as a dismissal, Cassy quickly gathered her things and hurried to meet up with her friends in the hallway.

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

“Of course, I don’t think it’s you! But it has to be someone in Slytherin, don’t you think?” Hermione said earnestly from where she sat across from Cassy at the library table

“I mean, I guess,” Cassiopeia felt reluctant to throw any of her housemates under the bus. Besides, she hadn’t seen anyone acting suspicious lately. 

“I was talking to Ron about it,” Hermione continued, her quill scribbling onward, “And he thinks that Malfoys the one who did it. I have to say, I’m inclined to agree. Did you hear what he said when everyone found the writing? He said, “You’ll be next, Mud Bloods!” I mean, how incriminating is that.”

Cassy wrinkled her nose, “No, I don’t think it could be him. He’d never be able to keep him being the heir a secret. He’d brag to it about everyone. Besides, the Malfoy’s aren’t connected to the Slytherin family at all,” she said, remembering the lineage lessons Daphne had forced down her throat after she’d made the mistake of asking who else the Malfoys were related to.”

“I don’t really think it’s about the blood relation, though. It’s probably anyone who’s slimy enough to be a Slytherin. No offense, of course.”

Cassiopeia fought the urge to snap at her friend, “None taken,” she said, the words coming out more biting than she had intended. 

Typical Hermione, she shouldered on ahead, unaware of the effects her words were having on her friend, “I don’t really like that Parkinson girl you’ve been hanging out with, either. Did you know her family is suspected of being-” she leaned across the table so she could whisper in Cassy’s ear, “ _Death Eaters?”_

Cassiopeia _had_ actually known that, and while Pansy definitely wasn’t her favorite person, she’d chosen not to judge her based on the actions of her parents. She said as much to Hermione, who frowned pensively at her paper.

“I guess. She’s never said anything mean to me to my face, but she’s always staring at me whenever we have classes together,” she shivered, “It’s weird.”

Cassy shrugged. Pansy had always been weird - hell, she had spent the entire first school year pretending to be in love with Draco Malfoy, and even Daphne had believed her - and Cassiopeia wasn’t about to waste time trying to figure her out. 

“Ron was wondering if, since we're friends, you could keep an eye out for any suspicious behavior in Slytherin. Or tell us if you think you figured out who it was.”

Cassiopeia frowned, she wasn't going to spy on her housemates for her, “I’ll think about it,” she said instead, “Do you know what the root ingredient is for the blinding potion?” Cassy asked, purposefully changing the topic.

“Oh, it's the charred toad liver! You know, I wonder why the liver has to be charred. Do you think it changes the properties of the toad? I better ask Professor Snape about that.”

“Sure, you do that.”

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

Cassy was undeniably nervous for her first extra lesson with Professor Lockhart. Daphne had been pleased that she was learning better defense skills - the behavior in the hallways had gotten so bad that she had called upon Bulstrode to be some extra muscle if anyone ever stepped out of line.

Professor Lockhart greeted her after at the door of the defense classroom, a cup of tea already waiting for her on his desk. Next to it sat a pile of thick books. Cassy was _not_ looking forward to those.

“Miss Potter, please come take a seat,” with a wave of his hand and an impressive display of wandless magic, Lockhart pulled out the seat opposite of his own to sit in.

“For our first couple lessons, I want to mainly focus on protection and recovery spells,” he began, barely giving Cassy time to settle before the chalk was swiping across the chalkboard, “While this may sound odd to you, it’ll minimize the overall damage you take from spells, thus helping you in the long run. The two that I think will be most important for you to learn right now are _Protego_ and _Armis.”_ The chalk circled the two words on the board, _“Protego_ is the most commonly used shield spell in magical Britain. It works by creating a barrier that can deflect or neutralize almost any spell. I say almost because the killing curse is known to be able to completely bypass the barrier. While this spell works well for duels or when you’re already alert for an attack, it fairs poorly against multiple opponents on multiple sides who can attack at unexpected times. _Protego_ also takes a lot of energy to sustain, so it would be completely impractical for you to maintain it consistently whenever you’re out of class.”

Cassiopeia nodded in understanding as she jotted down notes in her notebook (scrolls made _absolutely_ no sense, so she only used them for when assignments required them.)

“That’s where _Armis_ comes in. In addition to being extremely helpful, _Armis_ is also a considerably obscure technique, so most students won’t know what’s happening. _Armis_ works by coating your skin with a thin layer of magic that, when it comes into contact with a spell, absorbs the magic and renders it useless. It's easy to maintain and won’t drain you as you move from class to class. On the downside, it only protects against lower level spells - such as jinxes or easy hexes. However, I doubt even the students that hate you the most are casting spells meant to permanently maim or kill, so _Armis_ should be more than enough for you. Also, because it’s a spell that is constantly drawing on your magic, it's an incredible exercise for your core, allowing it to grow at faster than average rates.”

Cassy perked up at that, that sounded interesting, “What's the wand movement?”

“I will show you in a moment,” Lockhart said, moving to draw his wand, “but for the time being, I only want you to practice it in this room, at least for a week. The spell requires extremely precise control of your magic you might accidentally overexert yourself if you use it throughout the day time. Additionally, I don’t want you telling others about this spell. I’m confident that I can make sure you don’t succumb to magical exhaustion, but I doubt I could handle the entire student body.”

“Okay,” Cassy said, quickly agreeing.

“Very well then. The incantation is _Armis,_ obviously, and the wand movement is a triangle that moves into a large rectangle, that moves into two smaller rectangles. Presumably, it’s meant to represent armor, which is the English translation.” He demonstrated the movement with his wand and Cassiopeia did her best to draw it in her notebook.

“And what about _Protego?”_

“We’ll begin working with _Protego_ in a few weeks, seeing that it takes a much larger core. However, your core is sure to expand rapidly in that time, especially during the beginning process. Now then, why don’t you give _Armis_ a try. I’ll warn you if I think you’re doing too much or too little.”

Meticulously, Cassiopeia traced the same pattern in the air and muttered the incantation. She felt a weight settle over her shoulders and she took it to mean the spell had been successful. It felt almost like she was wearing her invisibility cloak except… not. The imaginary fabric was cool against her fingertips and, if her arms had been bare, she imagined it would’ve felt like she was wearing some type of heavy silk. Weird.

“You’re pushing too much magic into it. Imagine your magic system is full of pipes and your wand is the faucet,” the sudden launch into a metaphor through Cassy off guard, but she listened eagerly, “In order to the get amount of magic you want, you need to slowly turn the faucet instead of letting it go completely and having all your magic burst out.”

Cassy took a deep breath and tried to follow his instructions, her face twisting into annoyance at how hard it was to wrangle her magic into obeying her.

Lockhart studied her face for a moment before nodding resolutely, “Yes, I can see that this technique is perfectly suited to you. Not only will it help grow your core, it’ll help you achieve the fine-tuned control that so many advanced spells require. Release it,” he commanded, and Cassy eagerly sunk back into her seat, “Try it again. This time with as little magic as you can. It doesn’t matter if it’s too little, I just want to see how thin you can make it.”

Cassiopeia raised her wand, _“Armis.”_

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

Quidditch practices were the most exhausting thing she’d ever done.

It wasn’t the actual flying that was the issue, that was fun. The wind rushing through her hair and the fog of the early morning clinging to her eyelashes. It was wonderful. No, the issue was the _exercise._

Cassiopeia had never been a particularly athletic child. After years of malnutrition, her bones were frail, and her limbs were almost painfully thin. Her slim physic worked perfectly for the Seeker position, allowing her to maneuver through the air unhindered, but not so much for running.

Which was what she was currently doing. 

She was lagging behind the rest of her team as they jogged around the Black Lake for the _third time_ that morning. Well, it was everyone else's fourth lap, but whatever.

“Can’t keep up with the rest of us, Potter?” Draco said snidely as he jogged past the panting girl.

Cassy had always been better at endurance running than sprinting, her actual speed being far below average. You didn’t need to be fast to evade Dudley, you just needed to outlast him. But at the beginning of her first lap, she’d made the mistake of trying to keep up with the rest of the team, and now she was paying for it.

“Shut up, Malfoy,” she said between breaths, causing the older boy to snicker louder.

“Bugger off, Malfoy,” Flint said as he caught up with the pair. Draco had purposefully run ahead of the group so he could terrorize Flint’s Seeker, “Leave her alone. She’s a Seeker, all she needs to do is catch the Snitch. Something _you_ definitely aren’t the best at.”

Malfoy sneered, but fell back into the crowd behind him, leaving just Flint and Cassy alone.

“Tch, what an idiot,” Flint muttered, mostly to himself than to Cassy. 

“It’s fine,” Cassiopeia said, mostly unbothered, “I’m used to worse from my cousin.”

Flint’s face twisted into a disgusted grimace, “The Muggle ones? I’d think so.”

Cassy rolled her eyes, her breathing less labored as she realized he’d slowed down his pace to something more comfortable for her, “Not all Muggles are horrible, you know. My relatives are just an extra mean lot.”

Flint’s grimace twisted into more of a concerned frown, but he fell silent as the rest of the team joined them, lapping Cassy for what was sure to not be the first time that practice.

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

“Sit down, everyone,” Lockhart spoke, effectively gaining everyone’s attention. He made a small gesture to indicate to Cassy to cast her spell. It’s been a whole week since her first lesson, and today was the last day he required her to only use the spell during her class. She’d gotten a lot better at it, but it still felt tiring to cast other spells while maintaining _Armis._ Professor Lockhart told her that the only thing she could do was practice until her core was strong enough to do it without even noticing.

“Today I’m going to be teaching all of you an extremely important spell, one that will come in handy on many occasions. The disarming spell, _Expelliarmus.”_

 _I’ve heard of that,_ Cassy thought vaguely as she scribbled in her notebook, _Probably through one of Hermione’s rants._

“The name of the spell comes from the Latin _expellere_ , from _ex-_ ‘out’ and _pellere_ ‘to drive’. The second half of the incantation, _armus,_ most likely comes from the Latin _armare_ , from _arma_ ‘armor, arms’. However, understanding its origin has nothing to do with how well you perform the spell. Miss Potter, if you’d please come to the front of the class and demonstrate for us? I’m sure you’ve already read through the chapter, like your assignment required.”

Cassy scowled. She _had_ actually read through the chapter, thank you very much. That didn’t mean she appreciated Professor Lockhart diverting all the attention to her spell casting while she was being forced to maintain _Armis._ Nevertheless, she set down her fountain pen and maneuvered her way through the desks.

Maybe she could drop the spell for a second while she cast _Expelliarmus?_ No, judging by the look in Lockhart’s eye, he wouldn’t fall for it for a second. 

Painfully aware of everyone’s gazes, Cassy took a deep breath, quickly reviewing the wand work in her mind. It was simple, draw a large arc with the tip of the wand and then flip it back upwards, mimicking the flying arc the other dueler’s wand would follow if the spell is cast correctly. 

Careful to keep her magic in two separate parts - one for the spell she was maintaining and the other for the spell she was preparing to cast - Cassy withdrew her wand from the pocket, raising her elbow until her wand was pointed over her shoulder, she shut her eyes tight in concentration. 

Lockhart stood casually in front of her, his wand loose in his hand. _Bastard,_ Cassiopeia thought viciously. 

She brought her wrist in a tall arc over her head, channeling all the magic she could into the single spell without disrupting her other one. She was going to wipe the blank expression of her Professor’s face if it was the last thing she did.

_“Expelliarmus!”_

With more force than was probably necessary, she whipped her wand back upwards, Lockhart’s wand mimicking its movement.

Cassy grinned a little as Lockhart stumbled with the force of the spell, too impressed with herself to care about how she could feel her _Armis_ flickering. 

“Very good, Miss Potter. You may sit down.”

Was that _pride_ flickering in her teacher's eyes? Cassiopeia felt the swell of gratitude in her chest rise with the thought.

_Ha, that’s what he gets for trying to humiliate me._

“Alright. Miss Bulstrode, you’re up next. Please move to the front of the classroom.”

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

Cassiopeia awakened the day of her first Quidditch match with absolutely no appetite.

“Oh, come on Cassiopeia, you need to eat _something.”_

“Yeah, come on! You’re all skin and bones,” Pansy said, circling Cassy’s thin wrist with her middle finger and thumb. Cassiopeia snatched it back immediately, causing the other girl to grin in amusement. 

Daphne frowned disapprovingly at Pansy while simultaneously shoveling more eggs onto Cassy’s plate, “It won’t be good to play on an empty stomach, Cassiopeia. If you’re nervous about your performance, not eating isn’t going to help you.”

“It’s not that, I’m just not hungry,” Cassy protested childishly.

“Yes, well, I don’t really care. Imagine how Flint will respond if he finds out you neglected breakfast.”

Cassy paled at that. Flint had taken on the role of a rude, overprotective brother, along with most of the team. She didn’t want to think about what he’d do if he found out that she wasn’t only sabotaging the game, but also _herself_. 

She scowled, but snatched her spoon out of Daphne’s hand, “Shut up,” Cassy said with her mouth full, but Pansy continued to snicker. Typical.

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

Cassiopeia stared face to face - more like face to chest - with the Gryffindor players. The symphony of cheers in the background were a wonderful distraction to the terror in her chest. She was pretty sure that she and Draco were the youngest players on either team, the only second years.

Regardless, Malfoy seemed as confident, cockily twirling his Nimbus 2001, the broom model he had bought for every member of the team.

“On my whistle,” said Madam Hooch, expertly ignoring the nearly tangible animosity between the rival teams, “Three… two… one…” 

There was the scream of the whistle and both teams shot in the air. Cassy could feel her heart rise in her chest with the rest of her body as shot far above everyone else, her light body allowing her to move quicker than the Gryffindor Seeker.

The blur in the corner of her eye was the only thing that alerted her to the oncoming Bludger, which she barely managed to dodge. She idly wondered if Armis would offer any protection against a Bludger attack. Though, she supposed, it didn’t really matter, because Professor Lockhart had told her it was illegal to use protection spells during a Quidditch match.

Cassiopeia was quickly distracted by her inner musings as the Bludger, despite being given quite a hearty wack in the opposite direction by one of the Weasley twins, swerved towards her again, causing her to dive wildly out of the way.

She sped away desperately as the heavy ball continued to chase her, much to the joy of the spectators.

 _Do they want me to fucking die?_ Cassy thought in terror as she ducked behind the Quidditch hoop, managing to deflect the Bludger against the metal ring. 

Malfoy flew up to meet her, the look on his face half amused, half worried, “Use some help there, Potter?” he asked with a faint grin.

“Yes,” Cassy grunted as she circled around the blonde boy.

Draco’s smile grew, but his gaze was fixed on the ball whipping its way through the air afterwards, “Come on now, what’s the magic words?”

“Oh, just fuck off and go get a Beater.”

“That’s not quite right, Potter. I know you didn’t have any parents to teach you proper manners, but the magic word is actually _ple-”_

“Oh, bugger off Malfoy,” Damian Lokovitch, one of the Slytherin Beaters said, arms already swinging wildly to hit the bludger away from her.

As expected, the contact didn’t do much. 

“Can we like… call a timeout or something?” Cassiopeia said desperately. So much for her first Quidditch game going well.

“Malfoy,” Lokovitch said, “Go talk to the Captain. Ask him what to do.”

Draco wrinkled his nose but did as he was told.

Cassy dodged again, green eyes desperately searching for a speck of gold in the air. Instead, her gaze fell onto the Gryffindor Seeker - a boy whose name she didn’t even know - who was flailing around desperately in the air. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about him.

Flint, having seemingly gotten Malfoy's warning, called for a timeout.

“Mrs. Hooch,” Cassy said the moment her feet touched the ground, stumbling towards the Quidditch referee, “Madam Hooch, there's something wrong with the Bludger.”

“The Bludger?” Mrs. Hooch asked, her yellow eyes thinning in consideration, “That’s not possible, my dear. I’ve had all the balls locked up in my office for hours.”

“It’s true ma’am, I promise. My team will vouch for me,” she gestured to the group of boys behind her, all of whom made varied noises of agreement. 

Madam Hooch glanced at the other boys, an unimpressed look on her hawk-like features, “With all due respect, Miss Potter, I don’t find myself inclined to believe a team that has… let's just say a rich history of committing fouls,” she turned away, walking back to her referee booth, “Your time out ends in three minutes.”

Cassiopeia stared at the back of the retreating woman with thinly veiled shock. She had just denied a student help on the basis of her _house._ The Bludger could _kill her_ if she was distracted for only a second. And she had just walked away, not even considering that Cassiopeia was telling the truth.

The anger hit her all at once.

Cassy was used to the steady anger that dwelled in her bones, the ever flowing river that churned in the back of her mind.

This was a tidal wave.

She turned back towards her team, her small shoulders shaking with tell tale rage. The air around her crackled with magic, her eyes glowing poison green, fueled by her wrath.

“We are going to win,” Cassiopeia said quietly, growing steadily louder, “I am going to catch the snitch. And we are going to win.”

The team was silent, staring with a mixture of emotions at their tiny Seeker. Flint stepped forward, a dangerous grin on his face, “Was it ever even a question Potter?”

The whistle blew in the background, barely audible above the roar of the crowd, “Mount!”

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

The Slytherin team won, of course. Cassiopeia was slowly overwhelmed by the two (two!) Bludgers that tracked her, but she’d caught the snitch, her only sacrifice a broken arm.

She’d been rushed to the infirmary and, although Madam Pomfrey healed it within minutes of her arrival, she insisted that Cassy stay overnight.

Daphne and Hermione thought she deserved it, a punishment for her reckless flying. Pansy had just laughed at her.

Hours later, Cassy awoke in the dead of night, seemingly by nothing. She shifted trying to get more comfortable, but froze. Someone was spounging her forehead.

Cassiopeia steadied her breathing, listening in an attempt to find out who the _fuck_ was caring for her in the pitch black.

Muttering. The person was muttering. Cassy strained her ears.

“Oh, poor Cassiopeia Potter. Why did she come back to Hogwarts? She promised. She promised not to come,” the voice bemoaned.

Dobby! That was Dobby! The little House Elf that she met at the Dursleys. What on Earth was he doing? And had he been the one that blocked the platform? Bastard.

“Dobby,” she spoke, knowing she wasn’t in any danger, “What are you doing here?” she winced at the croakiness of her voice.

“Miss Potter is awake!” Dobby shouted.

Cassy shot up in bed, her hands flying to cover Dobby’s mouth. Madam Pomfrey was _right there,_ her room attached to the main sickbed, “Shhh”

“Dobby hopes Miss Potter is not mad at him.”

Cassy sputtered. How could she _not_ be mad at him? First, he’d stolen all her mail and left her lonely for weeks. Then, he’d physically locked her out of the one place she felt at home. What was he even doing here? Unless- Cassiopeia felt the last of her self control crumble as she came to a halting realization.

“Dobby,” it was only because of years of living with the Dursleys that her tone wasn’t as scathing as she imagined, “Were you the one to enchant the Bludgers.”

Dobby looked sheepish, “Dobby was only trying to protect Miss Po-”

“Protect me?!” Cassy screamed, all consideration for Madam Pomphrey gone, “Tell me Dobby, how the _hell_ is almost bludgeoning me to death with two magical balls _protecting me?”_

“Mi-Miss”

 _“Leave,”_ Cassiopeia snarled, “I don’t care what danger you _think_ you’re protecting me from, but I can take care of _myself.”_

The sound of a door creaking brought Cassy’s rant to a halt.

Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall entered a moment later, carrying something that seemed to be made of stone.

Hushed voices filled the Hospital wing, and Madam Pomphrey came scuttling out of her room. There was a sharp gasp.

“What happened?”

“Another attack.”

Beside her, Dobby’s face crumpled. Cassiopeia had no doubt that hers had done the same.

With the light of the moon, Cassy was able to get a glimpse of what she initially assumed was a slab of stone. Colin Creevy.

She had a vague recollection of a boy who’d asked to take her picture. Was he… Was he dead?

“Petrification again?” whispered Madam Pomphrey.

“Yes.”

Cassiopeia felt the ache in her chest dissipate a little. He was alive. Being petrified meant he was alive. Professor Sprout had explained to them earlier in the year how the Mandrakes worked. 

The three adults stared down at Colin. Dumbledore leaned forward and

wrenched the camera out of Colin’s rigid grip.

“You don’t think he managed to get a picture of his attacker?” Professor

McGonagall said eagerly.

Dumbledore didn’t answer. He opened the back of the camera.

“Good gracious!” said Madam Pomfrey.

A jet of steam had hissed out of the camera. Cassy, three beds away, caught the acrid smell of burnt plastic, “Melted,” said Madam Pomfrey wonderingly, “All melted…” 

“What does this mean, Albus?” Professor McGonagall asked urgently. 

“It means,” said Dumbledore, “that the Chamber of Secrets is indeed open again.” 

It took ten minutes of fussing for Madam Pomphrey to shoo the other teachers out of the Hospital Wing and another five until the woman herself headed off to bed.

Only then did Dobby turn to her, his abnormally large eyes creased with worry, “Do you understand now, Miss Potter?”

He vanished with a crack. 

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

“Cassy!” Hermione shouted, flinging herself at the dark haired girl, “I’m so glad you’re alright.”

“Thanks, Hermione,” it was only a day after she’d stayed overnight in the hospital wing and the horrible feeling in Cassy’s heart hadn’t quite dissipated.

“Can you believe what happened to Colin Creevey?” the bushy haired girl asked as they walked together to potions, oblivious to the way her friend’s faces pinched in discomfort.

“Could you shut the fuck up about that, Granger?” Pansy snarled, picking up on Cassy’s discomfort.

“I don’t think you should be saying anything, Parkinson,” Hermione shot back, “I mean, how do we know you weren’t the one to open the Chamber. I mean, you weren't at the Halloween feast. And the only people who can vouch for you last night are Slytherins.”

“You know who also wasn’t at the feast and has no one to vouch for her,” Pansy’s smile sharpened, “Sweet Cassiopeia Potter, your best friend. Not to mention she speaks Parseltongue. But I don’t hear you saying anything about her, do I?”

Hermione sputtered, “Of course I’m not. The Potters are a goo- I mean _light_ family. There’s no way he could be Slytherin’s heir. The Parkinsons were Death Eaters.”

“You shut your mouth you-”

“Take your seats.” Professor Snape didn’t yell - he never did - but his voice effectively cut Pansy off.

Hermione huffed and glared at Parkinson, making her way to sit with Ron. Cassy watched her go with a pained look on her face. Why couldn’t her friends just _get along?_

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

“Hermione!” Cassiopeia called out as the other girl fled the potions classroom, tugging Ron Weasley along with her.

The dark skinned girl barely even glanced over her shoulder at her, “I’m going to the bathroom!” she shouted.

With _Weasley?_ Weird.

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

Cassiopeia had never felt so fucking stupid in her life. 

Why the hell would a group of fourth and fifth year Ravenclaw and Gryffindor students need _her_ help? They’d had a third year ask her so she hadn’t thought anything of it, eager to help.

So much for promising Daphne to act more like a Slytherin. She’d gotten herself trapped between a blocked hallway and a bunch of much stronger, much older, and _much_ more aggressive students.

Bloody brilliant. 

“The hell did poor Colin Creevey ever do to you, Potter? Ask for a couple of pictures?” the one at the head asked, his wand already out.

“I’m telling you, I didn’t do anythi-”

“Oh, save it for someone who believes you,” another boy snarled, he drew his wand and aimed, _“Ulcus!”_

Cassiopeia felt the magic from the spell being absorbed into the shield around her. Thank Merlin for Lockhart.

There was a hiss from the back of the group and a girl shouted, “Dark magic! She’s doing Dark magic!”

Cassy blanched. There was no way they seriously thought _she,_ a _second_ year, was performing some sort of Dark magic.

Unfortunately, they did.

As if some kind of signal had been given, a barrage of spells were cast. Cassy fell to her knees under the weight of them. _Armis_ hadn’t been designed to take so many at once, and she felt it flicker out of existence. 

Cassiopeia wanted her fucking wand back. It’s been slipped out of her pocket - presumably by the third year girl who’d asked her to come. She’d never regretted not buying one of the wand holsters that Daphne had mentioned that one time. 

Finally, a spell got through. She hadn’t heard what it was but, based on the effects - the way she was able to hear, _feel_ her heartbeat in her ears, the pulsing causing enough pain that it was almost unbearable - it wasn’t a charm that was taught to second years.

She keeled over onto her side, curling into the fetal position. She could barely hear what her attackers were saying over the pounding in her ears, something about a _slimy snake getting what she deserves._

“Hey!” 

Cassy blinked her eyes open, squinting at the now-unbearable light. She recognized that voice.

“What the hell is going on here? Jack, care to expla-” her voice cut off in horror, probably having spotted Cassiopeia’s crumpled form, _“Potter?”_

“This isn’t what it looks like!” said the leader boy from before, “We found her like this.”

“Like hell you did!” the voice said. She leaned down to gently shake Cassy’s shoulder, and oh, that was Penelope Clearwater. The girl from last year. That was good.

“Fifty points, from _each_ of you.”

There was a cry of outrage from the group and Cassiopeia winced, “Shut up, all of you. And nobody move, I’m reporting all of you to Professor Flitwick. Potter, can you stand?”

Cassiopeia didn’t say anything, so the older girl hoisted her up into her arms, vaguely concerned at how light she was. 

“All of you, with me. No, no, walk in front of me, so I can watch all of you. Honestly, ganging up against a twelve year old. What is _wrong_ with all of you?”

“She petrified our housemates!” a Gryffindor defended. 

“Oh, really? And what’s your proof? Because she saved me from a bloody Death Eater last year, so I highly doubt she’s trying to kill a bunch of Muggle borns.”

“That story isn’t true! There’s no way a first year could defeat one of them.”

“Oh, but you’re so sure she killed their _boss_ as a baby? And now you think she single handedly opened the Chamber of Secrets as a twelve year old? Make up your damn mind, Warren.”

The boy, Warren, flushed in shame and anger but didn’t respond.

“Get inside, all of you,” Penelope said, ushering the group into Professor Flitwick’s office.

The small man squeaked in surprise but quickly grew serious when Penelope told him the situation.

The Prefect was dismissed to take them completely out of it Cassiopeia Potter to the hospital wing, and the two girls hurried out of the room.

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

Cassy awoke, for the second time in a month, in the Hospital wing. Thankfully, it was at a normal time and was lacking a House Elf.

“Cassiopeia, are you awake?” said a soft voice and Cassy vaguely registered it as Daphne’s, “How do you feel? Can you sit up?”

Cassiopeia made a noise of affirmation, “It’s bright,” she whined, moving a hand to cover her eyes.

“You’re alright, you’re okay,” Daphne assured, running her fingers through the other’s dark hair, “Zabini, go dim the lights.”

“Mm,” someone said, but the lights dimmed enough that Cassy found it bearable to open her eyes. 

“What happened,” she asked, blinking around the room that was filled nearly to the brim with Slytherins. Everyone from her year was there and at least half of the Quidditch team, “Can I get some water.”

“Crabbe,” Daphne snapped, and the large boy quickly scampered out of the room, presumably to go find her a glass of water.

Ten minutes later, Cassiopeia was holding her second glass of ice water and Daphne had completely explained the situation. Apparently, the students that attacked her had gotten away with barely any punishment at all. Penelope had taken fifty points from each one and Professor Flitwick had given them two weeks of detention.

That was it.

Who _knows_ what would’ve happened if Penelope hadn’t found her. 

“Kid, just say the word and we can take care of them for good. Slytherins look after our own, you know,” Flint said, a scowl on his face.

“It's fine.” Cassy fell back onto her stiff pillow with a sigh. She was _not_ looking forward to explaining to Lockhart how she had lost her wand.

“It is _not_ fine,” Pansy snarled. Cassiopeia blinked, taken aback by the ruthlessness the girl displayed on her behalf, “Listen, Potter. If we let a Slytherin - especially someone like _you_ \- get attacked without retaliation, the other Houses will take it as a sign that they can attack any one of us. We can’t have that.”

Cassy thought for a moment, “That’s fine... But don’t do anything worse to them than they did to me. We don’t want to be painted as the villains, right?”

The Slytherins looked rather pleased with her answer, which made her rather nervous. Even _Malfoy_ was smiling. Cassy shivered.

“I’m going back to sleep, my head hurts.”

“Of course, Cassiopeia. I’ll tell Granger that you’re resting but will be up for a conversation in a few hours. Does that sound alright?”

“Mhm,” Cassy consented, burrowing her face into her blankets. She really didn’t deserve her friends.

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

“So.”

“So?”

“Would you like to explain to me _how,_ exactly, you ended up in a fight with five older students without your wand?”

Cassiopeia winced, she’d known this was coming, but there really wasn’t anything that she could say, “Well,” she started, but stopped soon after. She would have to carefully choose how to phrase what happened. Though, honestly, she had little doubt that Lockhart already knew exactly what happened, “A third year requested my help for a project in Defense. Don’t look at me like that, Defense is my best class. It’s perfectly plausible that he needed my help. So, I followed him to the library. Only, before we got there, we took a sharp turn and I was ambushed.”

“And where in this story did you lose hold of your wand?” Professor Lockhart asked, still looking unimpressed.

Cassiopeia withered under his gaze, “Well, um, I think the third year took it from my pocket while we were walking.”

“Your _pocket?_ You keep your wand in your pocket?”

“Where else am I supposed to keep it?”

“Foolish girl. A wand holster!”

“Tch,” was the only reply she managed, looking away in shame.

Lockhart pinched at his brow in exasperation, “Take a seat of now. There's nothing we can do about events that have already occurred. I want you to get started on more attack based spells in order to get you more prepared if a similar situation ever arises again.”

Cassy nodded, happy with the change in subject.

“Now, repeat after me, with no wand movements, _Sine Dolore.”_

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

“What’s this?” Cassiopeia asked two days later, gesturing to the thin black box that was resting upon Lockhart’s desk.

The professor glanced up at her from behind a cup of tea and hummed, “Open it.”

Cassy’s brow furrowed in suspicion, but dutifully untied the silver ribbon and opened the box. Lifting the contents from its container, Cassiopeia began to inspect it.

It was made of some sort of leather with little bits of silver ingrained in it. The straps that hung off the body resembled vines, and it made Cassy wonder if she would look like she was being attacked by a very small Devil’s Snare if she were to put it on. She lifted it up to examine the other side, and it was only then that she realized what the strange object was. 

“It’s a wand holster,” Lockhart said, perfectly in line with her own thoughts, “I found it in my vault. Once you put it on, no one will be able to take it off of you but yourself.”

“And you-you're giving it to me?” Cassy asked, suddenly self-conscious.

Lockhart smiled, and it was a much softer smile than Cassiopeia had ever seen him direct to any of his students. But as he spoke, his face smoothed out into his usual serious look, “Of course. What other of my students is at risk of her wand being stolen by hostile attackers while in school?” he asked instead, with a raised eyebrow.

Cassy winced, “Right,” the shyness hit her again, “Well, thank you. For the gift.”

Lockhart’s hand reached out, almost like he was reaching to ruffle her hair, but it drew back abruptly, so quick that Cassy didn’t even notice it, “Of course. Consider it an early Yule present. Come now, sit down. There’s a lot more to protecting yourself than a wand holster.”

Cassy grinned up at him, “Yes, sir!”

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

“You’re staying, aren’t you?” Daphne asked on December fifth during lunch, while Snape was collecting the names of who would stay over winter break.

“Yeah. I mean, I don’t really have anywhere to go. I doubt my relatives would like it very much if I interrupted their Christmas.”

Daphne scowled at the mention of her Muggle family members. On the other side of Cassy, Pansy’s lips twisted in a similar sneer, “I can understand you not returning.”

Cassy shrugged and went back to eating.

Over her ducked head, Pansy and Daphne shared a look.

“Well, in that case, Parkinson and I are staying as well.”

“You are?” Cassiopeia asked with a raised eyebrow, “Why? Not that I don’t want you to stay! But wouldn’t you rather spend Chri- Yule with your families?”

“Of course we would,” Pansy said and Daphne scowled at her, “But I think you’re forgetting something important, Miss _Leader._ We can’t let you stay here alone when we know you’ll be targeted.”

“Flint’s staying,” Cassy said, ignoring the warm feeling in her heart, “He can protect me. And besides, I won’t have classes, so it’s not like I’ll be leaving the common room very often.”

“Well, it's too late to change our minds now,” Daphne said, signing her name on Snape’s paper with her signature curled handwriting. She handed it to Pansy who signed it before Cassiopeia could get another word out, “Besides, I’ve already spoken to my mother, and she and my father are heading to Germany this winter, and their language is harsh on my ears.”

“Harsh on your ears? Seriously?” Pansy mocked.

“I’m certain I speak twice as many languages as you, Parkinson. I wouldn’t be saying anything.”

Cassy rolled her eyes and went back to eating. Her friends might want to waste their lunch, but she was keen on eating at every chance she was presented, thank you very much.

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

“Do you want to join the rest of the Slytherin second years who stayed in our Yule ritual. It’ll only be a small thing.”

Cassiopeia glanced up from the book she was reading, here brows pinched, “I don’t… I don’t think so. I wanna research them a little more… Maybe next year?” she asked hesitantly.

Daphne smiled softly at her friend, “Of course, Cassiopeia. I would never force you.”

Cassy paused for a moment in thought, “Could I watch?”

Daphne’s smile brightened, “Of course!”

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

The winter holiday was there in a flash. Her friends had stayed like they’d said they would, including Hermione, but so had Draco. In fact, almost all of the Slytherin first years stayed - which was odd, considering the fact that there was some monster going around the school petrifying students - except Nott, who went home every chance he got to visit his sick Grandfather, the only non-incarcerated family member he had left.

“Have you bought gifts for everyone?” Daphne asked, her legs crossed neatly while she sat in a chair large enough for Hagrid.

“Mhm,” Cassy hummed through sips of hot chocolate, “Every Slytherin in our year, just like you said.”

“And Flint and the Slytherin Prefects?”

Cassy choked, “I need to get presents for the prefects?”

“It's the polite thing to do.” 

“You didn’t tell me that!”

“I most certainly did. Around this time last year?”

 _“Last year?_ You expect me to remember something from _last year?”_

Daphne raised an eyebrow, “I expect you remember everything I tell you, Cassiopeia.”

“This conversation is boring,” Pansy said, flopping down in the only vacant chair left.

Daphne barely spared her any attention, “I don’t recall inviting you into it, Parkinson. Why are you even out here? You never spend time with Cassiopeia without someone else here to witness it.”

“You’re here, aren’t you?”

“You know what I mean.”

PAnsy promptly ignored her question, “I heard even more roosters have been killed,” she said as a way of changing the subject.

“You don’t think it’s whatever's in the Chamber, do you?” Cassy asked.

“It's unlikely,” Daphne said, “The method of death - or petrification - isn’t the same at all.”

“Speaking of Mudbloods,”

Cassiopeia glared at the older girl furiously, “Don’t say that word, Pansy. I mean it. I’ll seriously ditch you.”

“Tch,” Pansy almost wilted under Cassiopeia’s weighty stare. Seriously, those poison green eyes could be terrifying. With her chin tilted down like that, they shone like the Killing Curse… creepy, “Whatever. Speaking of _Muggle Borns,_ Granger’s been spending an awful lot of time with Weasley, hasn’t she? The one in our year.”

“Yeah, they seem to be really getting along, huh?” Cassy… wasn’t really sure what to feel about that. She’d known they’d been friends before, the redhead having apparently saved her from a Mountain Troll the year before, but Ron _hated_ her. And he’d been shunning Ginny ever since she’d been sorted into Slytherin. 

“Pft, like Granger would ever settle with Weasley,” Pansy mocked, “She doesn’t have the patience for him. Or anyone for that matter, she’s way too bossy. Honestly, I don’t understand why she tolerates him.”

“Jealous, Parkinson?” All three of the girls startled at the unexpected voice.

“Merlin! Zabini, when did you get there?” Cassiopeia asked, directing her question to Blaise, who was standing behind Daphne’s chair with his books clutched to his chest and a smirk on his face. 

“I’ve been here for the last ten minutes. Which you would’ve known if you had any spacial awareness, Heiress Potter. I’m sure Heiress Greengrass was aware of my presence from the moment I started listening to your conversation.”

Daphne made a noise of confirmation.

Pansy sneered at the boy, “And _why_ were you listening to our conversation. It's rude to eavesdrop, you know.”

“I was considering offering my input on the monster of the Chamber, but you quickly switched subjects to Heiress Parkinson’s pathetic crush on Miss Granger.”

“The moment I have a crush on Granger is the moment you actually make a fucking friend for once in your life.”

“Wait a minute,” Cassiopeia said, ignoring Pansy’s retort, “What contribution were you considering making?”

Daphne smiled at her approvingly.

Zabini paused and studied her with his calculating dark eyes, “I’ve got the whole story. About what happened the last time the chamber was opened.”

Cassiopeia’s interests were instantly piqued, “What? What happened?”

“Alright, but if I tell you, I need you to promise that you’ll get this across the whole school the second winter break is over. You hear that Parkinson?”

Pansy glanced at Cassiopeia for confirmation and nodded in understanding once she had the girls approval.

“Good. I want this thing to be taken care of as soon as possible. I don’t want the school almost shutting down again. Last time, a girl died. A Muggle Born, but her family didn’t allow for her name to be released in the papers, so there's no official record of it. But I had my mother ask some of the people who went to school when it opened, and she found out who it was. You’ll never guess,” he paused for dramatic effect, the bastard, “Myrtle Warren. Quiet!” He stopped Pansy’s interruption with his hand, “I’m not done yet. What’s even more surprising was who was punished for her death. _Rubeus Hagrid.”_

 _“Hagrid?_ There’s no way he did it,” Cassy protested, unwilling to believe that the kind man who’d introduced her to the Wizarding World had it in to murder a school girl.

“It was an accident, apparently. He was raising some sort of creature in his dorm room, an Acromantula I think, and it petrified multiple students and killed Miss Warren. The only thing that saved him from Azkaban was the Headmaster sticking up for him.”

Cassy had a hand over her mouth, “Oh my God, that’s horrible.”

Zabini gave her a weird look for her Muggle phrase, but didn’t comment, “It’s a good story is what it is. I want the Ministry to investigate him again so they can see if it's a repeat offense. The faster the story gets out there, the faster the investigation will come.”

“It would probably be smart to talk with Draco about running a story in the Prophet, too. His family has a lot of influence over the paper,” Daphne gave her a sidelong glance as if to say, _yours does too, but if Rita Skeeter gets a hold of the fact that a Black asked for a story, you’ll be outed in a week._

Zabini nodded, “That’s smart. I won’t be able to ask. The Malfoy family has a grudge against my mother because one of her past husbands was some relative of theirs. Not all too important. I would suggest having Heiress Parkinson or Heiress Greengrass speaking with him instead, as I’m sure he’d want to honor his family’s disputes.”

Pansy snorted, “Not me. He’s still pissed at the fact that I ditched him for Potter.”

“Heiress Greengrass, then,” Daphne nodded, and Blaise inclined his head to all three of them, “Very well then, I’ll be going. I’m holding you to your promise, Parkinson.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it pretty boy.”

Zabini didn’t grace that with a response. 

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

Christmas day, or Yule, as Cassiopeia had recently been introduced to it, had finally arrived. 

All the Slytherin first and second years had hurried down stairs the moment they awoke, Cassiopeia included, in order to open gifts. It was common practice for both Yule and Christmas to give gifts to each other, and Cassy wasn’t letting the occasion go to waste.

She’d managed to send all of her prefects owl-ordered chocolates in time for Yule, but just barely.

There was a pile of presents in front of the fireplace with her name on them, presumably organized by the House Elves. She picked up the one from the top of the pile and slowly unwrapped it without tearing the paper, until Pansy snapped at her to just get over it. 

It was a pair of dark blue dress robes, embroidered with a small constellation on the breast, _From the Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy,_ the note read. Under that, Lady Narcissa Malfoy had left another message, _From one daughter of Black to another, I wish you all the best, Cassiopeia_.

Cassiopeia smiled at the welcoming note, and carefully folded the shimmering robes and set them aside.

Zabini and Nott had both gotten her books, Crabbe had gotten her a broom maintenance set, and Goyle chocolates. 

Pansy had gotten her a pair of dragonhide, tight-fitting black boots charmed to be completely silent while she walked. They would go perfectly with her invisibility cloak.

Daphne had bought her a marble Wizards Chess set, along with a note that made her promise to practice until she beat Daphne twice in a row. Cassiopeia had a sneaking suspicion that that wasn’t going to happen.

A shout of elation from the other side of the Common Room brought the attention to a grinning Astoria Greengrass, who was examining a knitted lilac with a green _‘A’_ in the center. Cassy thought it resembled the Weasley sweaters they all seemed to wear during winter. Had Mrs. Wearley knitted one for Astoria? That was adorable.

The day flew by in a rush of laughter and chocolate. Until, finally, it was feast time.

The Great Hall was adorned with all sorts of winter decorations. The icicles that were hanging from the ceiling glinted in the candle light, and Cassy had spotted more than one couple kissing under one of the many pieces of mistletoe floating around the castle.

The whole school sang carols together. As it turned out, Ginny had a lovely singing voice, even though she looked too exhausted to even muster a croak. 

Cassy found herself frowning with concern as she watched the yonder girl nearly nod off halfway through her peas. Astoria gently shook her shoulder to keep her awake. 

Perhaps Cassiopeia should talk to her. It was hard to have members of your family shunning you. Cassy could relate.

The feast ended with another round of carols, and Daphne dismissed herself, though Cassy couldn’t quite catch what it was. Perhaps it was something to do with the ritual she was performing that night.

Nevertheless, she rushed down to the common room, everyone else in tow.

Daphne, along with Crabbe, who’d stayed behind for some reason as well, returned a few moments later.

“When will we start?” Cassy asked the older girl.

“Oh, er- it won’t be too long now,” Daphne said with a strained smile.

Cassy frowned with concern. Daphne must really be worried about the outcome of the ritual if she was stuttering. Cassiopeia wasn’t sure she’d ever heard Daphne stutter in the almost two years since she’d known her.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m, uh, fine.”

“Right… Do you want some hot chocolate? We should still have some time till it starts.”

“Sure.”

“Pansy, could you ask the House Elves for some hot chocolate? For all of us.”

“Tch, do it yourself,” Pansy complained, but she still called on them.

The three girls sat huddled in their usual chairs, drinking their drinks in silence until Daphne spoke up.

“S-so what about the Chamber. There haven't been any attacks lately.”

Pansy shrugged, “Maybe whoever it is went home for Yule.”

“You mean you seriously have no idea who it could be?”

“Well, I mean, we were talking about how it could be Hagrid based on what Zabini said, but I really doubt that.” Cassiopeia frowned at her friend again.

“Hagrid? Surely not.”

“What’re you talking about, Daphne. You were there. He was the one who opened it last time.”

“Oh, uh, right. Sorry,” she suddenly grabbed a piece of her hair, “I’ve got to go. Crabbe! I could use your help preparing for, um, what comes later.”

Daphne rushed towards the portrait door, but right before she could step through, Blaise materialized from seemingly nowhere and grabbed her wrist.

“What’re you doing? Let go of me!”

Crabbe made a move to free her, but Malfoy stepped in and stupefied him.

“That’s funny, but I don’t think I will. I don’t think any of us here are keen on letting two imposters who just spent the last twenty minutes interrogating our Housemates on the Chamber of Secrets.”

That got the attention of the older years, who glanced away from their conversations with their own friends to pay attention to what was happening at the portrait hole.

“Now,” Zabini continued, “Who are you, and where are the real Heiress Greengrass and Mister Crabbe.”

By this point, both Cassiopeia and Pansy were out of their seats and at the scene. From up this close, it was easy to see the ginger hair bleeding into Crabbe’s normal light brown, Daphne’s honey blonde darkening and frizzing.

 _“Polyjuice Potion,”_ Pansy hissed under her breath with rage.

Cassiopeia had no idea what that was but, based on the context clues, it was probably some sort of potion that allowed you to take on the identity of someone else. 

It was pretty clear who had drunk the potion.

Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger’s disguises were completely gone, but neither of them had said a word, frozen like deers in headlights.

One of the prefects, Gemma Farley, repeated Zabini’s question in a much more menacing voice, “Where the hell are Greengrass and Crabbe?” she snarled, “What the hell did you do to them?”

“N-nothing!” Hermione finally stuttered out. 

It was like a spell had been broken and all the betrayal Cassiopeia had been expecting from the moment she recognized her friend hit her head on. She managed not to stumble under its weight.

“They’re both fine!” Hermione continued, oblivious to Cassiopeia’s pain, “They’re both stupified and locked in one of the abandoned classrooms. Neither of them are hurt I swear!”

“Take us to them,” Cassiopeia snarled, and Hermione startled at the rage in her friend's voice.

“Cassy, I-”

“I don’t wanna hear it!”

“We were only trying to find out what you knew! You rent talking to me! And you got all defensive when I asked you questions!”

“That's because you were accusing my friends of _attacking students._ And now you’re sneaking into my Common Room to see if they’re secretly baby murderers just waiting for their time to shine? I don’t want to hear it, Hermione.”

Hermione wilted under her words.

“Potter gave you an order,” Malfoy said in a rare act of support for his rival, “Do what she says.”

“A-alright. And Cassy, I-I’m sorry.”

“Mione!” Ron shouted in protest, but he was ignored.

“I told you I didn’t want to hear it, Granger. I meant it.”

Cassiopeia didn’t even have to look at the older girl's face to know she was devastated. So she didn’t.

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

The group of students arrived at the abandoned classroom where their friends were supposedly being held. It looked completely non-descript, something Cassiopeia would’ve walked past a hundred times before she even thought to look in it.

The door opened easily, there was no lock. Why would there need to be when the only occupants were out cold? The sense of rage and revulsion Cassiopeia had been constantly feeling since Hermione had been revealed rose in Cassiopeia’s throat again.

One of the fourth year boys that had come with them hurried into the room and lifted up Crabbe, who stayed dead asleep.

Goyle tried to do the same with Daphne’s prone form, but the jostling caused her to be shaken awake.

“Cassiopeia?” she said, recognizing the worried face of the dark-haired girl above her, “What happened?” she paused, presumably as her memories finally started to catch up with her, “I see. Thank you for the help Goyle, but would you please set me down?”

“Right,” the quiet boy quickly obeyed, his face pink with blush.

“Fill me in as we walk back to the Common Room.” Daphne quickly dusted off her pale blue robes.

“Malfoy, Zabini, would you report what happened to Professor Snape?” Cassy requested. She loathed to get the Potions teacher involved, but this was probably something he should know about.

“Cassy I-” Hermione started again, but she was quickly cut off by Pansy.

“That’s Potter to you, Granger. You’d do well to remember it.”

Hermione stayed silent as the trio of girls, Pansy, Daphne, and Cassiopeia strode out of the room without a glance behind them.

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

"Cassiopeia," Daphne asked hesitantly, placing a manicured hand on one of the small girl's shaking shoulders, "Are you still up for watching us perform the ritual. We'll have to postpone it for a bit in order to give Professor Snape time to do what he wants."

"No. No, I don't think I'm up to it anymore," Cassy admitted. Without a goal, her anger was quickly leaving her, replaced by a feeling of sadness and betrayal.

One of her own _best friends_ hadn't even believed her when she said she didn't know who opened the Chamber. How was she supposed to convince the rest of the world?

"I think I'm just gonna go to bed if that's alright?"

Daphne sighed, but she did her best to hide her disappointment. She'd really been looking forward to being Cassiopeia's first look into ritual magic. Perhaps she would invite the girl to watch her family's Imbolc ceremony on the summer solstice. Would they allow that? Daphne wasn't quite sure, "Of course, Cassiopeia. Whatever you want, Remember, I'm not here to force you to do anything."

"Right," Cassy flashed her friend a tired smile, "Good luck on your ritual. I'm gonna go sleep."

"Right. It's been a long day. I'll see you in the morning, Cassiopeia."

"Good night."

Daphne watched the small girl slowly climb the stairs to her room, shoulders and head drooping, "Good night."

Silently, she cursed Hermione Granger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I swear I don't hate Hermione or Ron T-T. I just needed some conflict and I'm pretty sure these guys would actually do this.  
> 2\. Daphne is the Mom friend confirmed  
> 3\. I LOVE GINNY WEASLEY  
> 4\. Dont worry!! We'll be meeting Tom soon!! In the second half of this year, if all goes to plan
> 
> Hurray!! I hope you all liked it. Its a whopping 20,000 words (wow). Remember check out my tumblr @tom-riddles-horcrux. Se y'all next time!!

**Author's Note:**

> Please notify me of any mistakes! I wrote this in two days non-stop, so I wouldn't be surprised. My Tumblr is tom-riddles-horcrux, so check me out on there! I love it when you guys interact. See you next chapter!


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